


Somewhere Better

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [48]
Category: Gundam Wing, Kings (TV 2009), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Biblical References, Crossover, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 58,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set somewhere in seasons 2 or 3 of SGA, post-series for Kings.</p><p>Jack Benjamin gets a second chance in the most unexpected way - in a whole new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, _Fallen from the sky, locked up in darkness, cursed for eternity, seeping out the light, walking the ash._ "
> 
> Lorne and his team fall from the sky and land in Gilboa. Jack's been locked up in darkness. Silas curses him for eternity.

Jack knew the new prisoners had fallen from the sky. At least, that was what the guards were saying. Came out of nowhere, armed to the teeth. Wearing military uniforms, claiming they were from a country no one had ever heard of, but that they'd come in peace. The King, in all his hideous paranoia, assumed they were spies from Gath, took their weapons, had them locked up. Jack could hear them in the cell beside his, through the vent.

The guards kept his cell dark of a cruelty, to disorient him so he never knew when it was day or night. When he wasn’t being tortured, he slept as much as he could, huddled in the corner near the grate that led to the vents, because sometimes he could get a little light, maybe even some sound, some memory of the outside world. For a while there he’d tried to do calisthenics and PT to keep himself fit, awake, from being bored, but the guards had broken him of that far too quickly. His pride had followed too soon after.

“Sir,” one of the men said. “What’s the plan?”

“There are still four hours till we’re overdue for check-in,” another man said. His voice was a light tenor. “Since they stripped of us our comms, when we fail to check-in, they’ll send someone for SAR.”

Search and Rescue.

“You need to work on your  _ we come in peace _ speech, sir,” a third man said.

“You know,” said a fourth man, “I’ve always been pretty confused at how we’ve been able to come wandering through the gate on other planets armed up like we are and no one else sees us as a threat. I mean, here we come, in tac vests, with P-90s and M9s, and the locals smile at us like we’re Japanese tourists in khaki shorts.”

Those weapon designations meant nothing to Jack. He had no idea what Japanese tourists were, other than benign.

“Most of the planets we go to have a lot lower level of technology,” said the leader. “They probably can’t tell what is and isn’t a weapon when it comes to our firearms. This planet is the most like Earth I’ve ever seen. Guns. Tanks. Cars. Cities. Even the clothes.”

“Kind of uncanny, really,” a fifth man said.

Jack’s throat closed. They were from a different planet?

“Just a bit,” the first man agreed. “So we kick back for four hours, we tell them nothing, and then Sheppard comes blazing through the gate and rescues us and we put a red flag next to this address. Try again later when they’re not paranoid with their own wars.”

Jack’s throat closed, but he knew they couldn’t mean his Shepherd, his David. No, never his. Michelle’s. The only real person in Jack’s life had been Joseph, and he was gone.

“I don’t think McKay will let this planet go that easily,” the leader said. “Look how advanced they are, and the Wraith haven’t culled here in ages. No one even knew what we were talking about. The database said this planet was uninhabited. McKay will want to know what’s protecting them.”

_ Nothing _ , Jack thought.  _ Nothing is protecting us. All of this will crumble, all of us will fall _ .

He closed his eyes and breathed, listened to them talk, learned their names. Reed missed his girlfriend. Stevens missed his sister. Walker had a game of chess to finish with someone named Radek - and he was going to win this time. Coughlin had grand plans to marathon the entire Indiana Jones series with someone named Ronon, just to watch him outrage the archaeologists later. And their leader, Lorne - he just wanted to get back and catch up on sleep.

And then light seeped into his cell, and the guards came for him.

Yet more torture.

Jack was just swimming back to lucidity hours later when the door crashed open. He scrambled to sit upright, heart thumping in his chest, because this was it, this was the moment he’d feared, he’d dreamed of, when his father would finally send men to end him, but the men who ducked into the room and slammed the door behind them were not Gilboan soldiers, were not Gath soldiers.

Their dark grey uniforms were clearly military, but the patches - Atlantis - meant nothing to him. They were carrying Gilboan weapons - stolen from guards - and Jack realized they must have been the other prisoners. Five men.

“Sir,” the black man said, and Jack knew his voice. Stevens. “What now?”

“We wait for Sheppard,” the shortest man of all said, but he was Lorne, their leader. 

“For how long?” One of the other men - Reed, tight curls, deep voice - turned and stared. Jack knew the scene must have been horrifying and embarrassing, Lucinda slumped in the corner, nude and drugged out of her mind, Jack handcuffed to the bed posts, a sheet tangled around his hips.

“Sir,” Reed said, tugging on Lorne’s arm.

Lorne turned. “What? Oh. Sorry, to, uh, interrupt your party. If you could just stay quiet for the next little bit, we’ll be out of your country and off your planet real soon, and you can pretend you never saw us.”

Jack cleared his throat, swallowed the dregs of his pride. “Take me with you.”

Lorne blinked.

“Not a party,” Jack said. “They were keeping you in the cell next to me.”

Lorne’s expression shifted. 

“I can get you out of the palace,” Jack said. “Please. Just - take me with you.”

Lorne scanned the room, took in the details that Reed must have, came to the right conclusion. “Walker, do your juvenile delinquent thing, pick his cuffs. You got clothes?”

“They stopped giving me clothes forever ago,” Jack said, and Walker, who was approaching, winced. “I can improvise.”

Walker narrated quietly, gently as he gripped Jack’s bruised and bloodied wrists to work at the handcuffs with some kind of hair pin he’d had sewn into the cuff of his sleeve.

When Jack was free, Walker withdrew, gave him his space, but they were soldiers. Modesty in the field was unheard of. Granted, this wasn’t the field. Jack wasn’t so cruel as to leave Lucinda as she was, so he threw one of the sheets over her inert form.

And then he tore another sheet to fasten it into a cheap loin cloth. Coughlin, who was closest to Jack’s side, shrugged off his shirt - he was wearing a t-shirt underneath. Stevens gave him a captured pistol.

“What’s your name?” Lorne asked.

“Jack.”

“Are we going to start some kind of international or interplanetary incident, taking you with us?”

“No. I might as well be dead. They torture me for fun these days.”

Lorne’s expression darkened. “All right. Let’s go. Do you know where they might have stashed our confiscated gear, by chance?”

Jack paused, tried to reset his brain back to soldier. Major Jack Benjamin. “Yeah, I think I have an idea.”

“All right. I’ll take point. You guide me. Reed, on our six.”

Lorne’s men moved into position smoothly, speaking of years of training and likely years working together. Jack suspected special ops of some sort, but he wasn’t about to ask questions. He just had to find the guard station for the dungeon. It had been a while since he’d been there. He stayed just back and to the left of Lorne, so he was covering Lorne’s flank and had line of sight forward, and he murmured instructions, about where to go, about patrol timing. He was off his rhythm, there was more than one close call, but not even he was sure how long he’d been locked up in the dark, with brief forays into the light for time with Lucinda.

Lorne and his team’s gear was mostly intact in the guard station. They hadn’t even locked it up, just piled it onto the desk. Some of the pockets had been emptied, but nothing looked particularly disturbed. The first thing Lorne did was slip on some kind of tiny radio earpiece.

“Atlantis, this is Alpha Romeo Three Niner, do you copy?”

The other men shrugged into their tac vests, checked their pockets for essentials, scooped up their weapons. Reed gave Jack the assault rifle he’d stolen from one of the palace guards, smoothed a hand over his own rifle with a grim smile.

“Anything, sir?” Walker asked.

“Not yet.” Lorne glanced at Jack. “How do we get out of here?”

“The tunnels.”

“Tunnels?” Lorne echoed.

Jack smiled grimly. “The ones they use to evac the royal family in case of a foothold situation.”

Stevens looked Jack up and down. “You part of their security team or something?”

“Or something.” Jack checked the magazine on the rifle, grabbed a spare magazine out of the armory for good measure. “This way.”

They managed to avoid guards right up until they reached the alcove beside the dining room, where two soldiers were standing guard in front of the painting of the king that covered the entrance to the escape tunnels.

They spun, weapons raised, and faltered when they saw Jack.

“Your -”

“I, Major Jonathan Benjamin, command you to lay aside your weapons and stand down.” But Jack raised his gun. He wasn’t taking any chances.

“But - the king -” 

“Did not strip me of my commission. I am your superior officer, and I issued you an order. Obey it, or your lives are forfeit.” Jack still had enough of the crown prince in him that the soldiers looked frightened and obeyed. Jack sized them up, trained his gun on one. Walker trained his gun on the other without being asked. “You,” Jack said. “Give me your uniform.”

Reed disarmed the one, pushed him facedown on the carpet while Walker kept a gun on him. Stevens trained his gun on the other one while he stripped off his uniform. Jack grimaced at having to go commando, but commando was better than naked in battle. He took the soldier’s tac vest and spare magazines for good measure, took his boots too.

Coughlin tied up both guards while Walker and Reed followed Jack’s instructions and took the painting off the wall, jimmied open the trapdoor, and swept everything off the side table onto the floor. 

“Come on,” Jack said. 

Lorne took point, Jack went behind him, and Reed was charged with closing the door behind them.

And then there was only one way to go - forward.

Every now and again, Lorne tried his radio. “Atlantis, this is Alpha Romeo Three Niner. Do you copy?”

After the third try, Lorne said, “Glad to hear your voice, sir. We should be clear of the palace in -”

“Five minutes,” Jack said.

“Five minutes.” Lorne paused, listened. “Where’s the nearest space for, say, a bus to park?”

The escape tunnel came up on the Summer House a good distance from the palace itself. It had vast lawns and was isolated. Jack gave Lorne coordinates, did some quick math and translated them in relation to the palace, and Lorne relayed them to his superior officer.

The end of the tunnel came into view soon enough, with all of them moving at a good clip - Jack’s feet ached because the boots he’d appropriated were too small - and Jack drew his weapon, followed Lorne into the air.

He tasted ashes, smelled gunpowder, and there was the King with a good contingent of palace guards, weapons at the ready.

“Major Jonathan Benjamin,” the King said, his gaze cold, unfeeling.

“King Silas,” Jack said evenly, weapon raised. 

“You cannot escape your destiny.” King Silas eyed Lorne and his men. “You said you were not of this world, that you knew nothing of this war, and yet here you are, rescuing -”

“A fellow prisoner, who offered to show them to safety in exchange for passage with them,” Jack said, because he didn’t dare let Lorne and his men know who he really was.

“Some safety you’ve shown them to, but then you always were a backstabber, weren’t you?” King Silas raised his pistol. He’d once been a soldier. He’d always been an excellent shot.

“ _ I am half sick of shadows _ ,” Jack said. He caught Lorne by the collar, hauled him in, and kissed him.

Lorne made a muffled noise of surprise. The King snarled in fury, but then there was an explosion and Lorne was tackling Jack to the grass.

Ash rained down around them.

The summer house burned.

And a grey metal log appeared on the lawn, seemingly out of thin air.

The King’s soldiers were hunkered down, some protecting the king.

The soldiers who stepped out - including women - wore uniforms matching Lorne and his men’s. They fanned out, guns trained on the King and his guard.

“Major,” said the soldier at the front, the one with impossibly unruly hair.

Jack pushed himself to his feet at the sound of his rank, wary, but Lorne said, 

“Excellent timing as always, sir.”

The soldier raised his eyebrows. “Something you want to tell me, Major?”

“An unorthodox distraction technique, sir.” But Lorne was blushing ever so faintly. He didn’t, however, look disgusted or inclined to punch Jack in the face. Either Lorne was a very kind man or his planet was much kinder to men made like Jack.

The soldier grinned. “Rodney,” he said, and the pudgy soldier with blue eyes and thinning hair but incredible shoulders turned. 

“What?”   


“Looks like I’m not the only Kirk,” the soldier said, and Lorne’s blush deepened, but he rolled his eyes.

“John?” the dark-skinned woman asked.

“Right,” the soldier said. “You heard the lady, boys, onto the jumper. Before the natives get restless and decide to start pointing their guns again.”

Walker, Coughlin, Reed, and Stevens trooped up the ramp and into the strange grey vehicle. It didn’t have wheels, and it certainly didn’t look aerodynamic. Jack had never seen anything like it before. He remembered what he’d overheard. Lorne and his people were from a different planet.

“Sir,” Lorne said. “Major Benjamin helped us escape. I told him he could come with us.”

John pursed his lips thoughtfully. What kind of officer was he, letting his soldiers be so familiar with him? But then more than one of his soldiers didn’t look regulation, like the man with the thinning hair or the massive man with the dreadlocks and no uniform. Mercenaries, perhaps?

“We couldn’t have made it without him, sir,” Lorne said. He leaned in and said something in a low voice, something that made John raise his eyebrows and look Jack over with something resembling sympathy.

John nodded. “All right. Be it on your head when Weir freaks out, though. Major Benjamin, is it?”

“Jonathan Benjamin, sir.” If Lorne was a Major and he’d called John ‘sir’, John obviously outranked him. “My friends call me Jack.”

“Huh,” Rodney said. “You’re the second Jonathan I’ve met who goes by Jack.”

“Come aboard,” John said, beckoning. He twitched his weapon up, ordered the rest of his troops to fall back to the ‘jumper’.

The ramp closed with a hiss, and Jack settled himself onto one of the passenger benches beside Lorne. John and Rodney clambered into the pilot seats.

Jack stared when a holographic display appeared midair, and then the jumper was rising up, but Jack didn’t feel a thing.

The King and his soldiers climbed to their feet, shouting, but they weren’t firing.

“Why aren’t they shooting at us?” Jack asked, peering out the window.

“Invisibility cloak on the jumper,” Lorne said quietly.

“Hey Major Benjamin,” John called from the cockpit, “your king is yelling something about you being cursed for eternity. Got any parting shots?”

Jack thought for a long time. Finally, he said, “Tell my sister I love her.”

John relayed the message with exactly the intonation Jack had.

“Wow,” Rodney said. “That really pissed the king off. What did you do to him, exactly?”

“Disappointed him.” Jack smiled tightly. 

Understanding crossed John’s face. “Lorne,” he said, “you might want to give our guest the 101 on what’s about to happen.”

“What’s about to happen?” Jack asked.

John threw a grin over his shoulder. “You ever been to outer space?”

“No. That’s only for astronauts.” Jack frowned. 

“And for people like us with jumpers like this.” John patted the control console fondly, and Jack’s stomach lurched when the jumper rocketed skyward with nary a sound or a shift.

“Inertial dampeners,” Stevens explained.

Jack had had enough physics in high school and college to understand what that meant. He gazed at Lorne and his fellow soldiers and wondered who they were and where they came from, and where the hell he was going.

Somewhere better than he’d been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, author's choice, _I swear your pride will be the death of us all / Beware, it goeth before the fall_ "
> 
> Major Jack Benjamin says goodbye to Prince Jack of Gilboa.

Jack sat on the cot in the infirmary, wearing a hospital gown with as much dignity as he could muster, sheet pulled up to his waist. Elizabeth Weir had greeted him politely when he stumbled off of the puddle jumper in the gate room (and his head was still spinning with space flight and stable wormholes and science fiction turned real life), then turned her steely gaze on John (Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard) and Lorne (Major Evan Lorne) and ordered them into her office. John’s 2IC, the woman Teyla Emmagan (an alien) escorted Jack to the infirmary where the Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Carson Beckett, was expecting him.   
  
Of course. Those tiny radios. Everyone in this place knew everything instantaneously. It was a wonder they didn't go mad.  
  
Jack was wary when Teyla led him into what looked like a closet, but there was a display panel on the wall, and which she tapped, and the doors closed, and when they opened again, Jack and Teyla were somewhere else.  
  
Jack answered Beckett’s questions about his health as best as he could, his childhood illnesses and immunizations (the names of which were unhelpful), hospitalizations, his last dental and physical checks (he’d had them recently enough, as part of his regular military care). And then Beckett, after only the slightest hesitation, asked about Jack’s recent sexual history, his number of partners, any incidents of unprotected sex.  
  
Jack couldn’t help it. He pressed his knees together and curled his hands into fists and refused to submit to examination of anything below his waist.  
  
So he was left sitting in the infirmary, watching nurses bustle back and forth, while Beckett scribbled on his chart and had a quiet conversation with someone - most likely Elizabeth Weir - over his radio.  
  
It was reflexive. It was pride.  
  
It was horror.  
  
But this was his second chance, his clean slate. As far as these people knew, he was Major Jonathan Benjamin of the Gilboan Army, and he’d pissed off the King, and the King’s punishment couldn’t nearly have fit the crime.  
  
Jack could admit to himself that he’d done horrible things, unconscionable things, all in the name of claiming his birthright, being the next king, finally earning all he’d worked for - his father’s love and appreciation, the throne.  
  
He’d swallowed so much of his pride in that dark, dank cell. He’d swallowed a little bit more when he asked Major Lorne to rescue him. He had to swallow the last of it, put his head down, and submit to whatever these people wanted. These people were technologically superior, they were surprisingly trusting, and if it didn’t work out with them, he could run, and no one would ever find him.  
  
Because if he ruined things here, it was over for him. He had to learn their ways, fit in, be a good soldier - and he knew how to be a good soldier.  
  
So much pride, and so much falling.  
  
The death of Jack’s kingship. The death of his dreams.  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
No more falling. Just climbing up.  
  
Jack closed his eyes, drank down the last bitter drops of his pride, and said goodbye to Prince Jack.  
  
He cleared his throat. “Doctor Beckett?”  
  
Beckett turned toward him. “Yes, Major?”  
  
“Sorry. I needed a minute.” Jack pushed the sheet down past his knees. “I’m ready now.”  
  
Beckett’s expression turned sympathetic, and Jack had to curl his hands into fists to fight off a wave of indignation and anger at sympathy.  
  
“If you’d like to speak to Dr. Heightmeyer first - she’s our resident psychiatrist. Do you have psychiatrists where you come from?”   
  
Jack nodded.  
  
“If you’d like to speak to her beforehand -”  
  
Jack shook his head. “No. I’m ready.”  
  
Beckett drew the curtains around the cot, and Jack lay back and let his past burn away with the pain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "any. any. _'Your smile reminded me of-' / 'I always remind people of...'_ "
> 
> Jack and Atlantis learn about each other.

The thing that weirded Jack out the most about the Atlantis expedition was the Earthers and the fact that their Earth was so much like his own. After the puddle jumper and the stargates and Atlantis itself, he assumed they were vastly technologically superior to all he’d known. He remembered some of the comments Lorne’s team had made, about how Gilboa had seemed familiar to them, but he’d thought they’d meant in the past, perhaps, that what was the cutting edge of technology and modernism for him was quaint and old-fashioned for them.  
  
But as they quizzed him extensively about Gilboa and the planet in general, about its culture and politics and technology and weapons capabilities, he was surprised that they understood things like _ballet_ and _symphony_ and _romantic comedies_ (and most of the men made faces at the mention of those). Model and make names were different, but apparently Earth had cars and cell phones, guns and tanks and airplanes and fighter jets, high rises and skyscrapers and the internet. Earth had jeans and t-shirts and ball caps.  
  
It was uncanny.  
  
And it was exhausting, sitting trapped in a room for hours on end, Weir and Sheppard and McKay firing questions at him. Jack admitted his scientific knowledge probably wasn’t a useful gauge of the level of development on his planet, because he hadn’t been a science major in college, but the questions kept coming. Were relentless.  
  
After six hours - in the middle of which a lowly marine brought everyone food (and the food was familiar - sandwiches and apples and bottled water) - Weir said they were finished for the day, would resume tomorrow. Jack would be spending the night in the infirmary once again till he was officially cleared.  
  
He’d just settled in on his cot with copies of various Earth military codes of conduct, codes of justice, and officer field manuals when an alarm blared, and a voice announced over the PA system, _Unscheduled off-world activation_.  
  
A team of nurses scooped up medical gear and a gurney and scrambled to the nearest transporter. Seemingly moments later, the nurses returned, wheeling a loaded gurney while Beckett shouted orders and Lorne and his marines trailed behind.  
  
“I’m sorry, say that again?” Beckett cast a wild look over his shoulder, shone a penlight in the eyes of the soldier on the gurney. Stevens, judging by the color of his skin.  
  
Lorne’s expression was chagrined. “He was bitten by a tree, doc.”  
  
“A tree?” Beckett echoed, wide-eyed.  
  
“A carnivorous, ambulatory tree,” Lorne said.  
  
Beckett paused, looked down at Stevens, waggled his penlight again. “Well, this is Pegasus.” He ordered Lorne and the rest of his team to stand aside, then began barking orders at the nurses.   
  
Lorne turned to the rest of his team and dismissed them, told them to change out and wash up and get on their reports as soon as possible. Lorne was still in full tac gear, and Coughlin hung back to collect Lorne’s tac vest and assault rifle before he went. Lorne thanked him, and Coughlin ducked his head, smiled tiredly, and hurried away.  
  
Only to be replaced by Dr. Weir and a tall, thin, brown-haired man wearing a uniform with blue science patches on it. Dr. Weir’s expression was calm and professional, but the scientist’s eyes were wide and he looked quite excitable.  
  
“Is it true, Lorne? A carnivorous tree?”  
  
“Unfortunately for Stevens and the pound of flesh he’s missing, yes.”  
  
The scientist had the good grace to look chagrined and cast a sympathetic look in Stevens’s direction.  
  
“What happened, Major?” Dr. Weir asked.  
  
“Standard recon, ma’am,” Lorne said, standing up a little straighter. “Through the gate, did surveillance. No signs of life on the life signs detectors, no signs of Ancient tech or even civilization. Planet must have been culled into oblivion. Walker and Reed took photos, as requested by surveying, and we were heading back to the gate when the trees just - came alive. Chased us. Stevens hit a divot in the grass and fell, twisted his ankle, and one of the trees got him. Reed and Coughlin were quick on their feet, opened fire on the tree and managed to get Stevens to the gate.”

“It’s possible the trees are the primary life form on that planet,” the scientist said.  
  
“It did look heavily forested,” Lorne conceded.  
  
“Well, all of you made it back, so thank you. I’m sure botany will be interested in your photos as well, if you could send them to Dr. Parrish.” Dr. Weir nodded at the excitable scientist and went to speak to Beckett.  
  
The scientist - Parrish - smiled at Lorne. “Walking, talking trees, huh? Make you miss our time together offworld?”  
  
Jack kept his head down like he was studying the Air Force Officers’ Field Manual but listened intently. Was it just his imagination, or did Parrish sound a little...flirty?  
  
“No talking, just biting,” Lorne said. “And when I babysat you offworld, the plants were never the problem.”  
  
“I feel bad for Stevens, I really do,” Parrish said. “I got bitten bad by a dog once when I was a kid. But - this is the kind of thing I signed up for, you know? Alien life forms. Not just more human-aliens and planets that look like Canada.”  
  
Canada, Jack knew, was a nation on Earth, Dr. McKay’s homeland. He was very proud of it. Jack glanced up and definitely saw Parrish move a little closer to Lorne.  
  
“You all right, Major?”  
  
“Just fine.” Lorne’s smile was perfectly friendly. “Tree didn’t get anywhere near me.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“I’m sure.” Lorne glanced over his shoulder at where Stevens was being prepped for surgery. “I’ll make sure those pictures are sent to you ASAP.”  
  
Parrish nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but then Lorne lifted a hand to the radio at his ear, lowered his chin, expression intent. Parrish waited, waited some more, and finally drifted away, and the glance he cast over his shoulder at Lorne was definitely longing.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Lorne said finally, and lifted his head, let his hand fall to his side. He ambled over to Jack’s cot. “Hey, Colonel Sheppard asked me to make sure you’re okay. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”  
  
“I’ve been fed, no one’s tortured me, and I have entertainment.” Jack hefted the stack of military manuals for emphasis. “I’m fine, thanks.”  
  
Lorne winced. “Yeah, ‘entertainment’. Don’t read it all at once, or your head might explode.”  
  
“Thanks for that image.” Jack nodded in Stevens’s direction. “Will he be all right?”  
  
“Yeah. The tree didn’t hit anything vital, and he’s in good hands with Beckett.” Lorne smiled wryly and shook his head. “Attack trees. Every time I think I’ve seen it all, the Pegasus Galaxy throws me something new.”  
  
Jack tilted his head, studied Lorne. He had dimples when he smiled. “Your smile reminded me of -”  
  
“I always remind people of...someone. Brother. Friend. Cousin. Weird uncle.” Lorne raised his eyebrows. “If you tell me your sister I’ll feel terribly bad for your sister and also _not_ sneak you a square of brownie from the kitchens.”  
  
“No, none of the above,” Jack said. “Someone who was a fellow soldier. Who was disgustingly earnest and noble and maybe just a little bit innocent.”  
  
“Pretty sure I’m none of those things. Well, my Marines might tell you I’m disgusting after burrito night at the mess hall, but -” Lorne shrugged. “You sure you’re all right?”  
  
Jack nodded. “Yes.”  
  
“Okay.” Lorne turned away, and Jack took a deep breath. Took a chance.  
  
“Major?”  
  
Lorne turned back to him. “Yes?”  
  
“When I kissed you,” Jack said.  
  
“As a distraction technique,” Lorne said slowly, not a question.  
  
“You didn’t - freak out.”  
  
“When enemies have weapons pointed at me and my men is a bad time to be freaking out.” Lorne’s expression was unreadable.  
  
“I just wanted to say thanks. For not freaking out. For - rolling with the punches.”  
  
Lorne smiled cautiously, then. “No problem. Looks like we make a good team. Don’t read too much, Benjamin. And get some sleep. I hear you’re going to be in for another long day tomorrow.” He patted Jack’s shoulder and walked away.  
  
Jack watched him go and wondered what he’d have to do, to get assigned to Lorne’s team.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, author's choice, hidden royalty."
> 
> Jack tells Atlantis about himself without telling them who he is.

An anonymous soldier - most likely a Marine; the Air Force was in command here - brought Jack a change of clean clothes and led him to the locker rooms so he could clean up and shower. A different Marine was waiting when Jack was clean and dressed, and he escorted Jack back to that interrogation room where Sheppard, Weir, and McKay were waiting.  
  
As was breakfast, on trays. Jack stared at the scrambled eggs and bacon and, for one moment, was back in his father’s kitchen, listening to his father’s deep, velvety voice as he declaimed something or other over cooking breakfast. But he realized the others were waiting for him, so he sat, pulled the cafeteria tray close, and picked up his fork, and only then did the others start eating.  
  
“Major Benjamin,” Dr. Weir said, “we appreciate your candor and helpfulness in regards to the history, culture, and technology of your planet.”  
  
Jack nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that the eggs didn’t taste anything like the ones his father had made. He swallowed a mouthful of orange juice and cleared his throat. “You rescued me from a difficult situation. I’m equally appreciative.”  
  
“Colonel Sheppard tells me you’re interested in potentially joining the expedition as a member of the armed forces,” Dr. Weir continued. “Based on Major Lorne’s report, you demonstrated necessary battle skills and worked well with one of our teams. We’d like to get to know you a little better first, though.”  
  
Jack slid his gaze over to the long mirror on the far side of the room. No doubt it was a window and someone else was observing the interrogation. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was being recorded.  
  
“You want to know why the king had me locked up and will I be a threat to you and this base.”  
  
Weir didn’t look surprised that Jack had seen through her pleasantries, but she didn’t look offended or off-balance either. “Yes.”  
  
“I won’t be a threat to you and this base,” Jack said. “As I mentioned before, I’m appreciative of your liberating me. As for why I was in the dungeon being tortured as I was - the king wanted an example made of me.”  
  
“Because?” Weir asked.  
  
“Because I prefer the company of men.” Jack glanced at Sheppard and McKay.  
  
Sheppard winced ever so minutely.  
  
McKay said, “We’re counting him as part of the international armed forces contingent, right? Then that doesn’t matter.”  
  
Jack fixed his gaze on Sheppard. “Would it matter for your...United States?”  
  
Sheppard rolled his shoulders in a deliberately insouciant shrug. “If someone officially knew, yes, but the general rule is we won’t ask so you won’t have to tell.”  
  
Jack replayed his conversation with Major Lorne the night before, about the kiss. “Will I be safe here?”  
  
“Of course.” Sheppard said it without hesitation.   
  
Weir sliced her bacon neatly. “The king called you a back-stabber. Why?”  
  
“He believed I’d given up my ‘mistake of character’ in order to serve the crown,” Jack said. “I had not, and when the choice was him or another, I chose another.”  
  
“Given that your orientation will never conflict with the command structure of this expedition,” Weir said, “what other assurances do we have that you aren’t guilty of more serious crimes?”  
  
“None,” Jack admitted, and McKay raised his eyebrows. He was artless, which was refreshing. “Only that I am at your mercy.”  
  
Weir nodded. “Point well taken. Now, we really do want to get to know you. Tell us about yourself, your family.”  
  
“Before we beat a hasty exit from your planet,” Sheppard said, “your last words were ‘tell my sister I love her’, and the king flipped his lid. You have a sister.”  
  
“Who is beloved of the king’s favored son.” It was the truth, though not the way these people thought. “My family is politically powerful, and I was raised with privilege, well-educated, chose to serve my country in the Army. I had a mother and a father and wanted for nothing growing up.” Nothing material, at any rate, but Jack wasn’t about to go crying over spilled milk. What was done was done. He was never going home again. His father’s approval meant nothing now.  
  
“What did your parents do?” Weir asked.  
  
“My father was a career soldier, my mother -” Jack thought quickly - “a Minister in the King’s Cabinet.”  
  
“What do you like to do for fun?” Sheppard asked.

There wasn’t that much fun to be had as prince. All his partying hadn’t been fun; it had been a sham, a cover, a lie.   
  
“I learned all the things a privileged child learns,” Jack said. “I suspect the same as on Earth - to play a musical instrument, appreciate fine art and music, horsemanship, marksmanship, dancing. In politics, there are an awful lot of parties, so dancing is necessary.”  
  
Jack saw understanding on Sheppard’s face and suspected they had more in common than the mere soldiering.  
  
“That wasn’t an answer to John’s question,” McKay said.  
  
“I wasn’t much for fun,” Jack said. “I soldiered, or I politicked and partied, and I slept. And then there was the dungeon, which wasn’t much fun either.”  
  
“Monarchies are quite rare in developed nations on Earth,” Weir said. She’d finished her bacon and eggs and was slicing her toast into neat little squares. “Well, what monarchies do remain in developed countries are usually only figureheads. An actual working monarchy is fascinating. How did that come to be?”  
  
“Our region was war-torn, with factions and warlords and chaos. The King was just a soldier in the Gilboan Army, but he united the lands, managed to broker some semblance of peace so Gilboa was no longer under constant attack.” Jack took a deep breath. “Some say he acted under the guidance of Reverend Samuels, a prophet of God.”  
  
“God?” Weir echoed.  
  
“Not the, uh, Ancestors?” McKay asked.  
  
“God,” Jack said flatly. “They say when Samuels ordained him king, that a cloud of monarch butterflies descended on him and perched on his head like a living crown, and it was a sign from God of his divine kingship.”  
  
“Huhn,” McKay said. “Maybe not so advanced after all.”  
  
Weir cast him a sharp look. “Do you believe the king was divinely appointed?”  
  
“Maybe for a time,” Jack said. “But God’s favor doesn’t last forever.” The King hadn’t been the only one who saw David Shepherd and his crown of butterflies.  
  
“Do you believe in God?” Weir asked, and she sounded genuinely curious.  
  
“Even if I did, he doesn’t believe in me.”   
  
“Well, that got heavy fast,” Sheppard said. “But I think we’ve learned enough.” He glanced at Weir, who nodded, and Sheppard smiled. “Welcome to Atlantis, Major Benjamin.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jack said.  
  
“Come on,” Sheppard said, standing up. “I’ll have Teyla give you the dime tour.”  
  
“Dime?” Jack asked.  
  
“Ah. Unit of money. The dime tour is the, uh, quick and dirty version.”  
  
“Right.” Jack laid his fork and knife neatly on his plate and rose up, followed Sheppard out of the interrogation room.  
  
“So,” Sheppard said, falling into step beside him. “King and Queen. Prince and...Princess? What did the princess look like? Was she pretty?”  
  
“Beautiful,” Jack said honestly.  
  
“But not your type, obviously.” Sheppard raised his eyebrows. “What about the prince? Was he good-looking?”  
  
“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask, and I wasn’t supposed to tell.”  
  
“Well, we are pretty far from Earth,” Sheppard said, “and besides, you’re not actually in my military, so our rules don’t always apply to you.”  
  
“You gave me all your handbooks -”  
  
“So you’d have a sense of our protocols, but those handbooks weren’t written with things like space vampires in mind, so we do our own thing in Pegasus.”  
  
Jack was wary of Sheppard’s easy, charming smile. “Of course.”  
  
“Was it at least fun, hanging out with the royal family?” Sheppard asked. “I grew up rich, but certainly not royal.”  
  
“For certain values of the word fun,” Jack said.  
  
Sheppard chuckled. “I’ll bet. C’mon! Teyla’s this way.”  
  
Jack followed Sheppard and wondered what the others would think, if they learned who he really was. But it didn’t matter, because he was never going back there, and they would never find him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "any, any, first time cooking."
> 
> Sheppard asks Lorne to entertain Jack. Lorne likes to cook for fun. Jack remembers someone else who liked to cook for fun.

Jack suspected Sheppard had assigned Teyla as his guide around Atlantis because she was a woman and would seem non-threatening (but Jack had no doubt that any soldier on Sheppard’s team would be the best of the best) and also she was not part of the Earth delegation and they might relate better to each other. After Beckett issued Jack a clean bill of health and Heightmeyer preliminarily signed off on his fitness for duty (with a standing order for weekly sessions), the Quartermaster issued Jack a uniform, some casual clothes, and hygiene supplies, someone else issued him a room, and he was set loose on Atlantis. With Teyla as both guide and security detail.  
  
Atlantis, Teyla explained, was ten thousand years old at least, and while it was massive, they only had enough power to maintain living quarters in a fraction of the space available. She showed him Control and Ops, where the central systems were maintained and the Stargate was kept, the Database, which was operated via communication with a condescending female hologram, the mess hall, the training halls - where Ronon, the other alien on Sheppard’s team, was flinging around Marines with startling ease - and the shooting range, the common areas where people could watch movies or play games or otherwise socialize, the greenhouses and laboratories, and the archives.  
  
“There are certain common items available to all recreationally,” Teyla said. “The Archivist keeps many books and movies, and also a considerable music library. Do you enjoy music?”  
  
“Yes,” Jack said. “I had a friend who played piano. My sister played - plays - the cello.”  
  
Teyla nodded warily, and Jack suspected she didn’t even know what those instruments were.   
“Do you also play a musical instrument?” she asked.  
  
Jack played the violin. “Not in a long time.”  
  
Teyla showed him how the transporters worked, and some of the balconies with nice views of the ocean and sky, and some of the best running routes. She showed him the different living quarters - marines, Air Force, science (divided by department), command. And finally she showed him to the command office, where Sheppard and Lorne were waiting, Sheppard glaring at a datapad (Jack had heard some tech companies were attempting to manufacture such devices, but on his home planet they were still science fiction) and Lorne standing at attention.  
  
“John,” Teyla said, “I believe I have overwhelmed Major Benjamin enough for one day.”  
  
Sheppard lifted his head. “Thanks, Teyla. I’m sure the Marines can’t wait for their next beatdown after spending the day in Ronon’s capable hands.”  
  
Teyla inclined her head politely, offered Jack a smile in farewell, and departed.  
  
“Major,” Sheppard said, and Jack came to attention, but Lorne said, “Sir?”  
  
“I know we’re still getting to know Benjamin,” Sheppard said, “but Dr. Weir gave me the go-ahead to see about adding him into the gate team rotation, classified as an international officer for now. How about you put Benjamin through his paces, see if there’s any conditioning he needs to do after his stint in the royal Gilboan dungeons, and let me know where you think he’d be an asset to the expedition.”  
  
Here it was. The next test. Today with Teyla had been as assessment of his manners, his temperament, his self-control. Now was the assessment of his skills as a soldier.  
  
Jack fell into parade rest, lifted his chin. “I stand ready and willing, sir.”  
  
Sheppard smiled. “But not today. Like Teyla said, you’ve had enough for one day. Lorne can run you through the gauntlet tomorrow. In the meantime - Major, why don’t you let Major Benjamin tag along with you for the rest of the day?”  
  
Lorne raised his eyebrows. “Sir?”  
  
“Consider yourself off duty till tomorrow’s first shift,” Sheppard said. “Show Major Benjamin that we’re capable of fun on Atlantis.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Lorne shook out his limbs and smiled at Jack. “All right, Benjamin, let’s see what you’ve got. Follow me.”  
  
Lorne, Jack noticed, didn’t salute Sheppard before he departed, but then Sheppard didn’t seem at all offended by the lack of formality, so Jack didn’t salute either, just followed Lorne down the corridor.

“So,” Lorne said, “you have choices. There’s the officers’ club, which is basically poker night every night for everyone who likes. You play poker?”  
  
“Not so far,” Jack said.  
  
“Right. It’s a card game. Involves gambling and statistics and the ability to lie,” Lorne said, and Jack thought, once he learned the rules, he’d be very good at that sort of game. “Although poker night is less about the game and more about the drinking and bitching about the men and women we command. There’s also the, er, Stitch-n-Bitch, but that’s invite only, and the prerequisite is some kind of yarncraft - knitting, crocheting, tatting, tape lace, macrame, embroidery, that kind of thing. It is mostly women - not sure if that’d bother you,” Lorne continued, leading Jack back toward the common social areas Teyla had showed him earlier that day. “Did they have knitting on your planet?”  
  
“Yes,” Jack said, “but I don’t know how to do it or anything like it.”  
  
“Okay, no Stitch-n-Bitch.” Lorne hummed thoughtfully. “You mind if we swing by my quarters? I want to change out of my uniform.”  
  
“I don’t mind.” Jack smiled politely. This was still some kind of test, even if Lorne didn’t mean it to be one or Sheppard hadn’t specifically made it one.  
  
“Are you into video games?” Lorne asked. “The scientists and some of the Marines have a pretty good haul - everything from first-person-shooters to fantasy RPGs to those weird games where you build a farm and try to woo a girl into marrying you. Also those dance games. Those are way harder than they look. You dance?”  
  
“Only when my king commands it,” Jack said.  
  
Lorne laughed. “One thing Sheppard will never do is command you to dance.” Then he cleared his throat. “Unless, of course, it’s a necessary component of a peace ritual on an alien planet that’s required for opening negotiations. But we don’t ever talk about those. Ever. Especially not to Sheppard.” His gaze turned sly. “But if you manage to mention pink feathers in his presence, that can be kind of a winner.”  
  
“Sheppard is your king, then?”  
  
“No, not even close. He’s our military commander. Dr. Weir is the head of the entire expedition, and if anything happens to her, then Sheppard is in control.” Lorne strode through the military corridors, past the section that belonged to the Marines and to the section where the Air Force officers were housed.  
  
Jack was still fascinated by the door locks that initiated with the swipe of a hand. Lorne’s door, he noticed, opened without any need for a hand gesture.  
  
“Take a load off,” Lorne said. “I’ll be quick.”  
  
So Jack perched tentatively on the chair beside Lorne’s desk - all quarters were the same, it seemed, bed and desk and closet and a small bathroom. Lorne grabbed some clothes out of his closet and ducked into the bathroom to change. Jack wondered if it was Lorne’s natural modesty or if Lorne knew Jack liked men or if Lorne was just being polite. So much to learn about so many people. Jack would be exhausted by the effort of it, but he was nothing if not Silas Benjamin’s son, and he played to win. He studied Lorne’s desk. It was neat, just like his desk in the command office, but instead of a pile of military manuals and a datapad, he had a couple of sketchbooks, some drawing pencils and colored pencils, and photos. Lots and lots of photos. Mostly of his family, judging by the way the women in the photos looked, with the same dark hair and blue eyes and dimples as Lorne. Some photos of military comrades, if the uniforms were anything to go by.  
  
And lots and lots of photos of places. Alien places, Jack realized, when he spied a treeline and a night sky with four moons.  
  
Lorne emerged from the bathroom in khakis and a t-shirt.  
  
“I also hear some of the scientists have a mean game of D&D running, if you’re into that kind of thing.”  
  
Jack was confused, and Lorne said, “Dungeons and Dragons. A role-playing game. You pretend to be another character, like an elf or whatever, you roll dice, you fight battles? No?”  
  
Jack offered up his most guileless smile. “I think it’ll be a while before I figure out all these things you do for fun on Earth. What do you do for fun, Major Lorne?”  
  
“Please, call me Evan when we’re off duty.”

Was he always this friendly, this informal, or had he read something into Jack kissing him, into Jack asking about the kiss later? “Evan, then.”  
  
“I paint, I draw, but those are kind of solo activities.” Evan scanned his room, thinking. “Do you like food?”  
  
“Do you have to ask?”  
  
“Some people have small appetites. Come on. The Marines on kitchen duty tonight like me.”  
  
“What are we doing?” But Jack followed Evan through the halls of Atlantis, to a transporter.  
  
Evan grinned. “Cooking.”   
  
There was a Marine standing guard at the kitchen door when they arrived.  
  
“Sir,” he said to Evan, “we’re under strict orders from Dr. Linford -”  
  
“Tiramisu,” Evan said, and the Marine blinked, nodded, and stepped aside. Was it some kind of code word? Some form of money?  
  
Evan strode into the kitchen, which looked like a lot of industrial kitchens Jack had seen (and sneaked into). The Marines wearing aprons and sweating over pots of pasta and meat sauce called out to him, and again his response was _Tiramisu_ , and they grinned at him.  
  
“Do you have coffee where you come from?” Evan asked. “Or something like it? Dark, bitter -”  
  
“Necator of the heavens first thing in the morning? Absolutely. Why?”  
  
Evan tossed him an apron. “We’re making Tiramisu.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“A coffee-flavored dessert.”  
  
“You cook?”   
  
Evan nodded. “Being able to cook things other people like is a very valuable skill. One a guy can trade on, if you catch my drift. Do you know to cook?”  
  
“We had servants,” Jack said, which was true, even though breakfast every morning had been something his father cooked.  
  
“It’s never too late to learn.”  
  
Jack had always resisted his father’s cooking lessons, citing no interest in the journey, only the destination. For one moment, watching Evan move around the kitchen, gathering cooking implements and ingredients and lining them up like weapons of war, to be deployed one after another, reminded Jack of his father.  
  
His throat closed.  
  
But instead of King Silas’s velvet tones and lofty wisdom, Evan was explaining where the dish came from, how it was made, and how difficult it was to come by genuine Earth ingredients, and how he’d spent months learning to make a version of the dessert with local substitutes. The one ingredient he couldn’t do without was chocolate powder, which came on a shipment from Earth once every six weeks, so making tiramisu was a rare occasion, and he’d been meaning to get to it for a while.  
  
“So, you stir that, make sure it’s totally smooth.” Evan handed Jack a bowl and a whisk, then continued bustling around the kitchen, running the espresso machine, making little sponge cakes he called lady fingers (which was a delightfully macabre name).  
  
“Cooking is something you do for fun.” Jack raised his eyebrows.  
  
Evan patted his belly. “It has the best reward, obviously.”  
  
“And then there is sex.”  
  
Evan laughed. “You sound like a Marine.”  
  
The Marines grunted an _ooh-rah!_ , proud rather than insulted.  
  
One of the Marine said, “Major Lorne’s a gentleman. Doesn’t kiss and tell.”  
  
“Doesn’t kiss, you mean,” one of the others said, and the Marines snickered.  
  
Evan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But yes, cooking is something I do for fun.”  
  
“I hear occasionally he reads, sir,” the first Marine said.  
  
“You wouldn’t know reading if it bit you in the ass.” Evan flicked a dish towel at the insulting Marine, who dodged and laughed good-naturedly.  
  
Jack held out the bowl of cream. “I think it’s smooth now.”  
  
Evan gave it a few test stirs, nodded his approval. “Excellent. We need to let the lady fingers soak in the espresso for a hot second, then we can layer it all together, and once the layers are built, we put the cream on top, and I promise, the first bite will be better than sex.”  
  
“That’s quite the claim.” Jack raised his eyebrows.  
  
“He’s not lying, sir,” one of the Marines told him fervently.  
  
“Sex is much easier to come by in this galaxy than tiramisu,” said the first Marine.  
  
“I guess,” Jack said, “I’d better stay on your good side, Major.”  
  
“It’s not hard to do, Major.” Evan smiled. “And it’s Evan.”  
  
“Only if you call me Jack.”  
  
“Right. Jack. So, Jack, son of General Benjamin and Minister Benjamin, what do you do for fun?”  
  
Jack handed Evan the whisk he’d been using and said, “I cook.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, 
> 
> _And you think you're a guest, you're a tourist at best_  
>  Peering into the corners of my dark life  
> (Elvis Costello with Brian Eno)"
> 
> Kate Heightmeyer on Jack Benjamin. And Evan Lorne.

Kate wasn’t sure what to make of Major Jack Benjamin. He’d performed well enough on the tests she’d administered, but she wasn’t sure how valid any of the results were, given that he hailed from an entirely alien culture. She’d watched his initial debriefs and watched the recordings again, and it seemed like his home planet was the closest to Earth anyone on the expedition had encountered, but felt like she was going out on a massively frail limb, treating him regularly. She was mostly on Atlantis to assist in the aftermath of traumatic events and do regular evals on everyone to make sure people were managing their stress appropriately. Sure, she’d evaluated Teyla and Ronon when they first joined the expedition, but Teyla meditated regularly and was one of the most well-balanced, centered people Kate knew. It made sense, given that Teyla had grown up a leader in the constant struggle against the Wraith. Ronon had been a tougher case, hadn’t opened up, but he hadn’t displayed any overt symptoms of trauma, so after a few perfunctory sessions during which they stared at each other, Good Will Hunting style, Kate had released him.

She didn’t know how long Jack had been held prisoner - not even he really knew - but she didn’t think it held a candle to the seven years Ronon had spent as a Runner. She also didn’t know the full extent of the torture Jack had suffered, though between Carson’s reports and what Evan and his team had been able to tell, Jack had been the victim of corrective rape. Where Ronon had come to the expedition to continue as he always had, fighting the Wraith, whether as a Satedan soldier or a Runner, Jack had come to the expedition to escape a lifetime of torture, had to remake himself anew. Yes, he was a soldier, but best as everyone could tell (and Rodney was itching to go back to Jack’s planet and take another look around), he knew nothing of the Wraith.

He came along every week, and he was polite and charming and completely walled off. From his upbringing, she wasn’t surprised that he was wary - she saw the same defensive charm in John Sheppard.

What was surprising was how much Jack obviously trusted Evan. It was probably only obvious to Kate because she spent an hour with Jack every week, and Jack told her how he was adjusting to life on Atlantis.

“So, what fun things has Major Lorne been showing you?” she asked.

“We went to the Officers’ Club, and I learned how to play poker.” Jack had good posture, didn’t slouch around all over the place like John did. John had been raised with money; Jack had been raised with politics, where image was so much more important, and unlike John, Jack hadn’t been willing to rebel. Given what rebellion - or finally being true to himself - had cost him, Kate couldn’t blame him.

“How was that?”

“Evan said I’d be good at the game if I was good at lying,” Jack said. “Turns out the real trick is math, because I don’t understand the rules nearly enough to be good at lying about what’s in my hand.”

“But did you have fun?”

“It was interesting.” Jack was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “Colonel Sheppard is better at math than any of the scientists give him credit for, even Rodney. Major Teldy is not as good a liar as she thinks. Captain Vega smiles endlessly, which isn’t a useful strategy, but she has a nice smile.”

Evan probably thought he was helping Jack learn about Earth culture, unwind after his duties on base - Jack was functioning as the logistics officer till John assigned him to a gate team - but Jack was using his downtime to do recon on everyone on the base. Knowledge was power, and Jack wanted to know as much as possible about everyone around him.

“Did you win?” Kate asked.

“A few hands,” Jack said, and lowered his gaze, “but I suspect Evan let me.”

“Was Evan the dealer?”

“No. But he didn’t have to be.”

Kate filed that away for later. She knew Evan Lorne was both an excellent soldier and logistics officer, that he was efficient, bordering on ruthlessly so, and that he used his dimples and wholesome good looks and shorter stature to disarm people, get them to underestimate him. She also knew that Evan had a carefully cultivated mystique among the expedition members, had them believing that he knew everything that happened on base and could make anything happen on base, however seemingly impossible. Kate didn’t know if Jack had also fallen prey to that delicately-woven illusion, or if Evan was just that good at poker.

“Fifty minutes are up,” Jack said.

Fifty-minute hours were a thing on his planet too.

Kate smiled. “See you next week.”

*

The next week, she heard about Jack’s foray into movies. John, Rodney, and Elizabeth had built a list of “must see” movies for Teyla in the first year of the expedition. They’d added to it over time, modified it to include some more films Ronon might enjoy. After consulting with Jack, they’d modified the list some more, and now every night except for his Designated Cultural Education Night, he watched a movie with Evan and his team, with others joining in if it was a movie they particularly enjoyed.

Jack always showed up to his sessions with Kate in uniform. She didn’t know if that was because he preferred wearing his uniform or he found his casual clothes distasteful or something else. She’d asked, and his answer was that he didn’t have time to change before he came to see her, but she’d deliberately scheduled his sessions so they were after lunch on his designated Sunday so he’d be as comfortable as possible when he came to see her. If he was comfortable, he could relax, and they could make some headway into treating his trauma.

“So, Jack, tell me about your week.”

“Evan and the others had me watch a movie called _Top Gun_ ,” Jack said. “I understood its cultural significance in that it’s about combat pilots, and all of the Air Force officers on base have combat pilot training. But no one seemed to take it seriously, not like _Saving Private Ryan_.”

“What did you think about it?”

“It was interesting enough.” Jack studied Kate, assessing. She didn’t shrink under his scrutiny, just smiled pleasantly, because her understandably wary patients sized her up all the time. “Teyla loves popcorn. I mean, really, really loves it. I think she’d do borderline illegal things to get her hands on it. The Marines are incapable of shutting up during a movie. Colonel Sheppard has almost all the lines memorized. Rodney complains when he can guess the plot. Ronon gets bored and sketches during most movies. He’s actually quite a good artist.”

Kate wondered what other observations Jack had made about his new colleagues, that he wasn’t sharing. Noticeably absent was any mention of Evan. Did Jack think he had Evan all figured out?

And then Jack glanced away. “We made some great films, on my planet. I wish I could share them.”

This was the first time Jack had expressed any longing for home.

Jack shook himself out of his reverie. “Evan’s Marines have corrupted him. He has no sense of personal space. I spent half of the movie with his elbow in my ribs.” He rolled his eyes.

Just like that, Kate knew. Jack _liked_ Evan. She wasn’t sure if even Jack knew it. She wondered how he’d handle it if he did.

*

When Jack showed up to the next week’s session, he offered Kate a gift. It was a long, crooked, holey, but generally warm-looking scarf made out of chunky yarn. Kate wasn’t well-versed enough in the fiber arts to know whether it was knitted or crocheted.

She thanked him for the gift and tried it on, posed a little bit, and he applauded. “Let me guess,” she said, carefully setting the scarf aside, “Evan finagled you both a one-time pass into the Atlantis Stitch-n-Bitch Club?”

Jack nodded. “I feel like he cheated, really.”

“Cheated to get you in?” Kate asked. Was this it, the first sign of Jack’s distrust in Evan? Had he learned to trust anyone else?

“Cheated about the whole knitting thing.” Jack gestured arcanely with both hands; apparently knitting was like sign language. “Kusanagi and Katie sat on either side of me the entire time and taught me to knit, which is worse than being taught how to drive, by the way. Evan didn’t touch a single hook or needle all night. All he had to do was hold a thing of yarn while Ambrose wound it into a ball and nod in all the right places.”

“Looks like you got the better end of the deal, having made something,” Kate offered.

“Evan has steady hands,” Jack protested. “He’s an artist. He could’ve learned.”

“But did you have fun?”

“Actually...yes. There is a certain satisfaction in having made something.”

“Would you go back?”

“I have a standing invitation, actually.” Jack swallowed. “I don’t know if it’s out of pity or because they think I’m non-threatening because I’m gay or what.” His voice hitched on the word _gay_ but Kate kept her expression neutral.

“Well, you managed to knit an entire scarf,” she pointed out. “It could be based on your skill.”

“I’m not sure I’d go back alone.” Jack glanced away. “Ambrose seemed pretty pleased to have a human assistant for rolling yarn balls. If Evan came with me, perhaps.”

He still trusted Evan, then.

Kate smiled. “Did you make any new friends?”

“The women were nice, don’t get me wrong, but…” Jack trailed off, shrugged. He looked up, caught Kate’s gaze, then glanced at her notepad. “So - let’s talk about work. Because, whatever it is you people have against monarchies, well, bureaucracy might just be worse.”

Kate noted the deliberate shift in topic, how Jack was wary about talking about himself still. “Okay. Explain to me a little bit, the differences, because I’ve never experienced a modern, functioning monarchy.”

Jack sat up straighter. Shadows crossed his face for a moment, but then he smiled. “It’s a dictatorship, really. With crowns.”

*

“I hate dancing,” Jack said, sinking down into the chair opposite Kate.

She blinked, startled. He rarely started with talking about himself. “Scuttlebutt has it that you’re a very fine dancer, though.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Scuttlebutt?”

“Marine slang. For water cooler talk.”

“You mean gossip.” Jack pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Or rumor.” Kate raise her eyebrows. “Why were you dancing?”

“Atlantis has a roving dance club,” Jack said. “Every night, because every day is someone’s designated Sunday. Evan took me along. I’m not much fond of dancing. Even in the room with the slower music, the more - traditional, formal music.” He was fidgeting. Jack never fidgeted. Jack was always composed.

“Did you tell Evan you don’t like dancing?”

“I told him it wasn’t my favorite,” Jack admitted.

Of course Jack was still cagey with personal information, even with Evan, who he supposedly trusted. “Why do you hate dancing?”

Jack’s gaze went distant. “Dancing is all about pretense, Doctor. Formal dancing at balls or other political events - it was how well you danced, who you danced with, for how long, before and after whom, what you talked about while you danced. Dancing at clubs was - about being seen. With women. Lots of women. Beautiful women. Women other men would kill to share air with.”

“And you don’t like women.”

“I don’t dislike women, Doctor.”

“You’re not much interested in dancing with them, though, are you?”

“No.”

Kate tilted her head. “Were there no men for you to dance with?”

Jack stared down at his hands and said, softly, “No.”

Kate knew that there were plenty of men on Atlantis who were single and would have liked to _share air_ with the likes of Jack Benjamin. “Well, what about the music?”

Jack livened up a little bit, rallied to put on a charming, positive facade. “I continue to be surprised at how familiar it is, how similar to home.”

Kate listened to him declaim about genres of music, the elements of a song, what made it happy or sad, bright or dark, good or bad, and wondered if they could find an instrument for him to play, if that would give him some way to express his emotions without feeling vulnerable; he could play in the privacy of his own room.

But at the end of the session, he told her that no, he wasn’t much of a musician or particularly interested in music, had simply received an excellent education and learned to feign interest in all manner of things for the sake of polite conversation, and Kate felt, as always, like she’d made little progress with him.

*

“Video games are stupid,” Jack said, “and Evan is a cheater.” He plopped down in the chair opposite Kate and let out a breath in a whoosh. He didn’t sound particularly upset, though, more amused.

“I don’t play enough video games to know either way.” Kate made a note. “But Evan never struck me much as the dishonest type.”

“For the record,” Jack said, “I have excellent hand-eye coordination and reflexes. Also, I’m an excellent driver. I learned plenty of espionage-based driving skills, and even some combat driving skills. Evan Lorne, however, is willing to descend to the depths of indignity by making me laugh while I’m trying to race Stevens and Walker, and then I lose control of my car and crash and lose the race entirely.”

“Making you laugh?” Kate enquired.

Jack rolled his eyes. “All perfectly juvenile, military, boyish humor, Doctor. Not at all suitable for a fine, educated lady such as yourself. I never played video games much myself, it’s true. I’m pretty sure that Evan waited until right when I was getting the hang of it before he started in on me, too. He’s not a very good driver himself, though. I heard Naoe and Kusanagi talking about banning him from the Wii from here on out.”

Kate had never seen Jack like this before, alight and alive and almost giddy with joy.

“You know what the worst of it is?” Jack asked.

Kate shook her head. “No.”

“Randomly, while I’m working, Evan will turn on his radio and tell me one of those stupid jokes, and I’ll almost lose it. It’s terrible.”

Jack looked like he was interested in a whole lot more of that torment. Kate wondered if he knew how transparent he was being with his emotions, and she wondered if he finally didn’t care, and she was glad, because she’d never thought him capable of laughing and smiling like this. Granted, she’d never thought Evan capable of such irreverence in the line of duty, either.

“You know what the best part of it is?” Jack asked.

“Tell me.”

“I can do it right back.” Jack laughed softly to himself, gaze distant and fond. “I never realized this was what having friends was like.”

“You didn’t have friends before?”

Jack sobered. “No. Everyone who was nice to me wanted something. They thought they knew me and who I was. And they wanted something. Usually something I couldn’t or shouldn’t give.”

“What about the men you served with?”

“There are some ranks beyond military that separate a man from his soldiers.” Jack stilled, drew into himself, posture becoming more proper, more poised.

“But you have friends, now, right? Evan and his team?”

“Yes,” Jack said, careful and measured. “Friends.”

*

When Jack came in for his next session, Kate was interested to see how things were going, because he’d finally been assigned to a gate team of his own. Sheppard, McKay, Evan, and Stackhouse had all conferred with her about who they thought might work well with Jack on a team. Evan had proposed Captain Yuy as his 2IC. Stackhouse proposed Sergeant Barton and Sergeant Chang as his technical officers and McKay proposed Dr. Raberba, a geologist, as his scientist. It wouldn’t be a first-contact team, but they’d be doing valuable work looking for naquadah and also the crystal substance used to make ZPMs.

Captain Yuy came from a long line of military service, both in the old country and the new, and he’d served at the SGC with distinction, had no problems working with Teal’c or Jonas or Teyla or other human aliens. He was steady and disciplined and they hoped he’d support Jack appropriately. Sergeant Barton had joined the military out of the circus of all things, and his brand of physical acrobatics made for some bizarre but successful escapes in otherwise sticky situations. He was quiet, respectful, and only occasionally sarcastic. Chang was a bit of a wildfire, the black sheep in his family of genteel academics and scholars. He’d been widowed young and came off a little sexist, but they figured Jack could relate to his circumstances, at least a little bit. And Dr. Raberba, like Chang, had been raised in an upper-class family, was an accomplished linguist and musician, and understood a life of politics, the only son in a large and politically powerful, wealthy Circassian family. Dr. Raberba was also a little softer than the other soldiers, the youngest of thirty siblings, all of them girls.

But Jack talked about none of that. Instead he sat in his chair and studied Kate intently for a long time.

“I know deception and pretension are valuable skills - in politics, in espionage, in war. But I’m not used to people who just do it for fun,” he said finally.

Kate blinked. “What makes you say that?” She poised her pen to write.

“We played D&D this week. Evan isn’t a regular player, but he spoke to Dr. Crawford, who runs the game on base, and we went along. After poker, I suppose I should have expected that there are more than one card game based on bluffing and deception, but -” Jack shook his head.

“But what?” Kate prodded.

“Do you know how D&D works?”

“I know the basics,” Kate said. Corporal O’Hara, who was one of the core players in Dr. Crawford’s game, rambled on with his D&D stories for the entirety of his quarterly review. Kate understood roleplaying from a therapy perspective, but the technical details - involving more dice and math than any game should - escaped her.

“It’s all about pretend,” Jack said, “in a deceptively immersive way.” He slid his gaze away from her.

“Tell me about it.” Kate closed her notebook and set it aside, laid her pen on top of it, and leaned in.

Jack’s story started out the same as so many of Corporal O’Hara’s, with designations of race and class, everyone in the party gathered in some kind of medieval public house, a pub or a town hall or a village green, while Dr. Crawford maneuvered one of his characters to send them all on a quest together. Dr. Schwarz, a German neuroscientist focused on the mental component of Ancient devices, was one of Dr. Crawford’s regular players, and he helped Evan and Jack build their characters.

Evan had sketched portraits of everyone’s characters, to their delight, and the game started off well enough, players getting into character, characters getting to know each other. Evan had played a half-elf musician of some sort, charming and flirty and, to Jack’s bafflement, female. Jack, a little leery of venturing this far out of his comfort zone, had played a human soldier-type.

“Evan’s a very good actor,” Jack said. “He’s good at keeping a straight face in poker, for diplomacy purposes. That makes sense. But he was flirting with me. Only he wasn’t - his character was flirting with mine. No one else seemed to care. The rest of the players save Jei - O’Hara - are civilians and not even American, so I understand their indifference but - Evan was good at it. Totally immersed in it. But as soon as Crawford called break, Evan snapped out of it. It was like he’d never left. And afterwards, the others were so pleased with his talent, how good he was at pretending, at drawing me into the game with it, and - I like being soldier because there’s not nearly as much pretense, and certainly never as a game.”

“Maybe D&D isn’t for you,” Kate said softly. This was the most agitated and upset she’d ever seen him. Did he even know how he felt about Evan? Did Evan know?

“Because we were so good together,” Jack said, “we have a standing invitation as well.” He huffed, shook himself out. “Evan and I have standing invitations to so many social functions on Atlantis it’s a wonder we can do our jobs at all.”

“At all,” Kate agreed.

*

Jack showed up for his next sessions flushed, face shirt damp with sweat, looking energetic, and surprisingly not in his uniform.

“Did you run all the way here?” Kate asked. She handed Jack a bottle of water, which he accepted with polite thanks and drained half of in one go.

“Just got done playing basketball,” Jack said. He carded a hand through his sweat-spiky hair and grinned. He was incredibly handsome. Kate knew he was too self-aware to not know how handsome he was, but she wasn’t sure how good he was at trading on his looks. She suspected he’d grown up trading on his family’s name and wealth and position and pretending he was trading on his looks.

“How was that?”

“We have a sport like it where I’m from, but it doesn’t involve -” He made a dribbling motion with one hand.

“Is it a sport you particularly enjoy?”

“I didn’t mind the one back home so much. Of course, since I was - who I was, people were always hesitant to really _play_ against me.” Jack drained the rest of his bottle.

Kate didn’t think she or anyone else on Atlantis really appreciated just who Jack had been, back on his home planet. “Did you have a good time?”

“My team won.”

Did he equate winning with having a good time or was he being evasive? Kate made a note. “That’s good. Who was on your team?”

Jack listed off a handful of Marines and, of course, Evan. Always Evan. He frowned. “There’s a certain ritualistic significance to choosing teams, isn’t there? Sergeant Hansen and Sergeant Richins were the team leaders, and they alternated choosing their teams from the rest of us, and they laughed at Evan, when he was chosen last. I didn’t understand it. I assumed they chose from the Marines first, and then the Air Force officers, but when I asked Evan, he said it was because he’s the shortest.”

“Typically,” Kate explained, “the most desirable players are chosen first. Team leaders try to build the most advantageous teams possible by picking the best players early on, which also is a disadvantage to their opponent.”

“Our team won, though,” Jack said. “Evan scored the winning -” He made a circular motion with his hand.

“Basket. Or hoop, depending on who you ask.” Kate smiled gently. “Maybe next time Evan won’t get chosen last, now that they know how well he plays.”

“Maybe,” Jack said. He shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “We both acquitted ourselves well, but interservice rivalries are what they are.” Did Jack count himself an Air Force officer, then? “Evan didn’t seem all that upset.”

“Evan isn’t easily upset,” Kate offered.

Jack tugged at the label on the water bottle. “No, he isn’t.”

Kate managed to get him to talk about his team some after that. He was wary of Dr. Raberba’s endless politeness, accepted how taciturn and reticent Yuy and Barton were. He got along well with Chang, and they talked about life in their home countries sometimes.

When the fifty minutes was up, Kate wondered if she ought to check in with Evan and see how he was handling spending so much time looking after Jack. Jack had no complaints about Evan, but as Kate well knew, Evan wasn’t easily upset.

*

“So, Major Benjamin, our sessions are at an end.”

“I’m heartbroken, Doctor Heightmeyer.” Jack pressed a hand to his heart and affected a charming pout, and Kate laughed.

“I’m sure you are. Even though the sessions Dr. Weir ordered are at an end, my door is open any time you need it, day or night, all right?”

Jack nodded. “I appreciate it, Doctor.”

“So, you’ve had a busy time here on Atlantis. What’s your favorite thing to do?”

Jack’s gaze turned distant, thoughtful. Then he said, “Cooking.”

Kate blinked. “Cooking?” She hadn’t heard of any cooking adventures in all their conversations.

“My father used to cook breakfast every morning,” Jack said. “When we were younger, and our family was less powerful, he loved to walk the farmers’ markets, picking the best, freshest ingredients. When I was older, and we were wealthier, he sent servants to the market in his stead, because it was impossible for him to go out alone, but - he cooked us breakfast. Every morning. Without fail. Once the war was done and he wasn’t constantly gone, we had breakfast together as a family, and he’d cook. He’d wax poetic about the act of creation, and the journey, and the destination, and - we felt like a real family. A normal family.”

“Do you miss your father?”

“I hate my father.” Fury flashed in Jack’s eyes, lightning-fast before it was gone. “Evan’s an amazing cook, though. He likes cooking not because of the journey, though I suppose as an artist he enjoys the act of creation. No, I think what Evan likes best is how much everyone else enjoys what he makes.”

“Do you cook with Evan?”

“Whenever I can.”

“Maybe you’ll cook for him one day,” Kate said.

The hope that lit in Jack’s eyes was beautiful and terribly fragile. “Maybe one day I will.”

There was a silence, long but companionable, and then Jack flicked his gaze at the clock on the wall. “Time’s up.”

“Good luck out there, Major Benjamin.”

“And good luck in here, Doctor Heightmeyer.” Jack rose up, straightened his uniform, and left Kate’s office.

Kate knew she’d never see him in her office again, but she hoped he would, when the shadows crept out of the corners of his life and he needed help, and she contented herself with watching him slowly integrate himself into the City.

And then she discovered just how little she knew about him after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any team/group, any combo, A Bunch of Lonesome Heroes."
> 
> Jack's new team, AR-7, is a bunch of lonesome heroes. Maybe. Possibly. And they're called in to rescue AR-3.

As soon as Jack took a good look at the basic structure of a gate team, he knew there was no way he’d get assigned to Evan’s gate team. Two majors could not be assigned to the same team. The chain of command issues would have been ridiculous. Only when he asked Captain Yuy, his 2IC, Yuy explained that the flagship team on Earth, SG-1, had two lieutenant colonels who shared command. It was an unusual arrangement, but they were SG-1, the frontline first contact team, and they could get away with a lot of crazy things.

On Atlantis, AR-1, AR-2, and AR-3 were the first contact teams. Jack was leery of the wisdom of sending the base’s military commander and chief scientist out on the flagship team, constantly in peril, but AR-1 had a good success rate. AR-2 was led by Sergeant Stackhouse, the ranking NCO on base, and his pick of Marines. And AR-3, of course, was led by Evan and his Marines.

Jack didn’t mind having a survey team. Dr. Raberba was a man he understood - genteel, refined, with delicate violinist’s hands and a sharp mind. He was also deeply religious, prayed five times a day according to some mysterious schedule no one else really understood. He read holy books, and much of the wisdom he spoke was quoted from his holy prophet. His teammates didn’t disparage his religion or wisdom, nor did they share it. His official mission was to find a source of the crystal substance used to make ZPMs, so they went from planet to planet, making nice with the natives when necessary, and doing geological surveys for anything useful. The theory was, if they got a hit, then they had first dibs on harvesting ZPM crystal. Otherwise, finding naquadah or similar substances went to one of the other geology teams.

“Would you like some tea, Major?”

Jack looked up from his datapad. Where most scientists drank coffee like it was water, Raberba preferred tea. He always had a cup at hand, and Jack wondered if, when he was cut, he bled tea.

“No, but thank you.” Jack smiled at him. Raberba expected a certain level of decorum from those around him, and he usually got what he wanted by sheer dint of being so pleasant and sweet. No one wanted to make his smile falter. He could exude calm cheer without being annoying, and while Jack mistrusted optimists as a rule, he liked Raberba. He was familiar, comforting.

Sergeant Chang also enjoyed tea, though a different kind. Apparently tea had originated in his homeland on Earth and spread across the world during trade - and battles and struggles and wars for land and power and money. He never refused tea when Raberba offered it, accepted a cup with a strangely formal bow of his head, which Jack understood was particular to his culture.

Chang, Barton, and Yuy were all technically American, like Sheppard, but Evan had explained that America was where everyone else on Earth went in hopes of prospering, and they brought much of home with them, so living in America was like seeing the whole world in a small place.

“It’s a small world, after all,” Evan had said, which caused Raberba to perk up and Chang to roll his eyes and Barton and Yuy to look amused but say nothing.

Barton and Yuy were both men of few words. Jack knew Barton played the flute in his spare time, and he and Raberba played music together. Chang and Yuy were both students of the martial arts from their respective homelands, and they spent much of their spare time sparring. Jack couldn’t have expected less from a pair of Marines.

Where Evan shared an office with Sheppard - the military command office, it was officially known as; where paperwork goes to die, it was unofficially known as - Jack had decided to have an office for his entire team. While there was an O-club and an E-club, and there was certain merit in keeping the commissioned officers, the NCOs, and the enlisted men from mingling too much, Jack needed to know his team had his back, and to know that, he needed to know them.

A man learned a lot, watching other people work, especially when they let their guard down and stopped acting like their boss was breathing down their neck. Raberba sat at his desk with perfect posture every time, worked industriously for fifty minutes at a stretch, and took a ten-minute tea break. Every hour. Like clockwork. Chang, Barton, and Yuy had made some attempt at sitting industriously at their desks for about the first week the AR-7 Team Office was an official institution on Atlantis, but eventually they gave up. Yuy liked to kneel on the floor with his laptop on his chair and type like a madman. In addition to being a capable officer, he was a hacker of some skill, and when he wasn’t writing mission reports, he was poking around on Atlantis’s servers and probably getting into things he wasn’t supposed to. Since he didn’t cause any damage, no one really complained, and once in a while he’d share interesting tidbits he’d found.

“Hey, I finally got it.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Got what?” Barton asked.

Yuy turned his laptop around and pressed a button. A video began to play, steady at first, but then shaky. Because the cameraman was laughing.

Jack recognized the cameraman’s voice immediately. Evan.

“Keep it up, sir,” Evan said. “I think, after a few more bars, they should have what they want. Dr. Weir will be very pleased that we’ve secured this trade agreement.”

Barton, Chang, and Yuy all leaned in, watching with undisguised fascination. Raberba cleared his throat, and Barton moved back a bit to give him space.

Evan hadn’t been kidding. Sheppard was pretty obviously drunk, and he was wrapped in a bright pink feather boa and attempting to follow some dark-skinned native girl as she showed him a dance. The dance steps themselves looked quite simple, but given Sheppard’s level of inebriation, the task of following her was an arduous one. A row of elderly women adorned in resplendent feather headdresses was seated on the edge of the stone platform and watching solemnly while young, shirtless men beat on a hollow log for a drum.

“He is - not very coordinated right now,” Teyla said diplomatically.

“I could do better,” McKay muttered.

Ronon said, “Good thing he’s such a skilled soldier. What is it they say on Earth? Don’t quit your day job, Sheppard.”

And then Sheppard said, “Lorne, are you _filming_ this?”

And the video cut off.

Yuy held out a hand. Chang and Barton handed him money.

Jack pretended not to notice his Marines engaging in illegal gambling right under his nose.

Raberba smiled, amused, and said, “You know, you’d best make a copy, to preserve it for posterity. In case of a server malfunction.”

Yuy raised his eyebrows. Raberba looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but he reached under his collar and drew out what Jack had assumed was a pendant but was actually a flash drive.

Yuy’s grin turned decidedly wicked, and he accepted the flash drive, plugged it into his laptop, and set to work. Raberba stepped back and sipped his tea.

He was a master manipulator, just as Jack had learned to be. So far, Raberba hadn’t deployed his skills for anything more than harmless fun, but Jack was wary.

Chang had been raised with privilege as well, the son of two respected intellectuals, but he despised the artifice of the upper class, was often blunt to the point of being rude, but he knew how to keep his mouth shut when they were off-world and dealing with sensitive natives.

When the video finished copying, Yuy gave back Raberba’s flash drive, which he re-attached to his necklace with his expedition tags, and then it was back to work. For all of them.

Jack wondered what else Raberba had on that flash drive.

Yuy could maintain that kneeling position for hours, seemed to prefer it over sitting.

Chang also sat at his desk, but he preferred to write instead of type. Yuy had apparently rigged up a fancy system that recorded Chang’s penstrokes on his data tablet, so even though he didn’t type, all of his forms were preserved electronically.

Barton was constantly on the move. He paced. He wandered. He bounced. He typed with his pad propped up against the wall, or on his knees with his feet kicked up on his desk, or while he was perched on the edge of the desk. He had impeccable balance and impressive flexibility, and movement was part of who he was. He was always stretching out or working out or something at the same time as he was typing. If Barton was still, something was wrong.

Jack continued typing his latest mission report, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Barton go still.

“Barton?” Jack asked.

Barton flicked a green-eyed glance at him. “AR-3 is overdue for check-in, sir.”

While Jack hadn’t managed to arrange for his own placement on Evan’s team, he had managed to arrange it so that his team was first in line for SAR when AR-3 needed assistance, if AR-1 was off-world.

Which they were.

“By how long?” Jack asked.

“Just fifteen minutes.” Barton’s _for now_ went unspoken.

They’d have to wait for official word from Major Teldy, who was in command when both Sheppard and Lorne were off-world.

Jack nodded and kept on working. If he remained calm, his team would remain calm.

Fifteen minutes later, Teldy summoned Jack to Control.

Even though Teldy was a major and Jack was a major, Teldy had seniority over him, so it made sense that she was 2IC under the circumstances. Jack would have assumed there was an automatic bias against non-Earthers having any high command positions on base, but Teyla was the civilian commander when Weir was off-world.

“Ma’am?” Jack wasn’t required to salute. On Atlantis, salutes weren’t nearly as important as they were back on Earth, or so Evan said.

“AR-3 is overdue for check-in.” Teldy stood behind Chuck and Amelia at the communications console. They monitored all the chatter in the city, kept the radio lines uncluttered, and handled all incoming off-world transmissions.

“How late?”

“Thirty minutes. Scramble your team and assemble Marines for SAR.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Specs on the planet?”

“M1K-439, also known as Planet Waterfalls -” At this, Teldy made a face - “was scouted as a possible Alpha Site in the first year of the Expedition but ultimately rejected. AR-3 was going to do a more extensive recon and see if there were any natives and assess the possibility of using the planet to establish a hydro-electric power production system, to barter with less advanced planets.”

“How many personnel were deployed?”

“AR-3 plus Dr. Kusanagi, as the engineer.”

Jack thought quickly. “AR-10 should be sufficient.” Lieutenant Cadman’s team of Marines - and their designated scientist, Dr. Maxwell - were all talented at improvised munitions, and Jack knew the value of a good explosion or distraction in the field. If there were unfriendly natives, Cadman’s pretty face could go a long way to getting the natives to let their guard down, and Dr. Maxwell’s unassailable sunny personality would also be useful.

Teldy nodded, nudged Chuck, and Chuck immediately ordered AR-10 to assemble in the gateroom for deployment on SAR.

Jack headed down to the ready room. The rest of his team met him there, scrambled into their tac vests and requisitioned weapons from the QM. Raberba, in addition to being a skilled geologist, was a bit of a linguist by hobby, given that his own language had two major dialects, his religion was primarily taught and studied in a third language, and the diaspora of his people spoke up to five distinct languages, not including English, the language of the expedition. Raberba could be useful in negotiations as well.

Cadman arrived with her three Marines - Hansen, Sherman, and Ramirez - and Dr. Maxwell. Maxwell was threading his hands through his long red-brown hair, tying it back in a braid with astounding speed. Then he was strapping himself into his tac gear with the same practiced confidence as his teammates. He smiled at Raberba, who still fastened his tac vest and straightened it like he was going to tea with the Queen, and said,

“What’s up, Doc?”

The Marines laughed, and even Cadman cracked a grin before she asked Jack what the plan was.

It was a simple plan - standard recon on the planet, fan out from the gate in pairs, check in every twenty minutes. Cadman assigned herself to accompany Maxwell, but Jack assigned Barton to accompany Raberba. The two got along well, and they worked well in the field. He assigned Chang to Hansen, with Cadman’s blessing, and assigned Yuy to himself, leaving Sherman and Ramirez to pair up.

Chuck dialed the gate, and Teldy insisted on sending a MALP through. Chuck attempted to hail AR-3 over the radios, but to no avail. MALP telemetry showed a tropical paradise - lush undergrowth, tall trees, and bright flowers. The clearing around the gate looked generally undisturbed.

“Proceed,” Teldy said. “Check-in in two hours, Major Benjamin.”

Jack nodded, and then he led both teams through the gate. Once they landed, he assigned Sherman and Ramirez to watch the gate in case AR-3 returned to it and, on the two-hour mark, dial up Atlantis to report and send the MALP back.

That left four teams to spread out in all four directions from the gate and search.

The thing Jack still wasn’t used to was how numb to peril all of the gate teams seemed.

“My money’s on Lorne and his team being accidentally drugged by the natives and sleeping off hangovers as we speak,” Ramirez said. She was short but broad-shouldered for a woman and had a tendency to chew gum. Jack wasn’t sure if it was an addiction or a pastime, but he had been entertained by watching her blow bubbles the first time he witnessed it.

Sherman, by contrast, was tall and lanky and pale, with red hair and bright freckles. He looked like a good sneeze could knock him over, but Jack had seen him hold his own against Ronon. “My money’s on Stevens being declared a god for the color of his skin and him being fanned by hot native chicks with palm leaves.”

“Really?” Ramirez laughed. “Maybe it was Coughlin, with his curls.”

Maxwell and Cadman headed in the opposite direction from Jack and Yuy.

“What do you think, LT?” Maxwell asked. “I bet Lorne smiled at the natives and they decided his dimples were evidence of him being cursed or practising witchcraft and they’re going to do some horrific ritual to try to purge the evil from him. Maybe something that involves the waterfalls. Drowning? Dangling him over the waterfall? Maybe -”

“I’m not one to speculate on the potential peril that has befallen my colleagues,” Cadman said primly, “but if I were, my money would be on Reed smiling wrong at the Chieftain’s daughter and being forced into the Pegasus equivalent of a shotgun wedding.”

“Oooh!” Maxwell sounded ghoulishly delighted. “Would that be a Wraith stunner wedding?”

Raberba was remarking that he hoped AR-3 was all right, especially poor Kusanagi, and Barton was saying nothing.

Chang and Hansen had some kind of brief, clipped conversation that involved a lot more shorthand and numbers than Jack wanted to attempt to decode but that ended in, “Two-to-one odds it’s a time dilation field,” and, “You’re on.”

Yuy remained alert, attentive, scanning his surroundings as he and Jack headed into the trees on a standard grid search.

“You care to speculate on what befell AR-3?” Jack asked.

Yuy glanced at him briefly, blue eyes unreadable, and said, “No, sir.”

According to Kusanagi, who came from the same country as Yuy’s ancestors, blue eyes were highly unusual.

“You don’t seem overly concerned.” Jack scanned the foliage, but in such dense growth, visibility was quite short.

“It’s Pegasus, sir. Bad things happen. We prevail. It’s what we do.”

“Because you’re from Atlantis?”

“No.”

“Because you’re a big bad bunch of lonesome heroes?” Jack asked. Maxwell always referred to them as _lone wolves_ or _lonesome heroes_ or _big damn heroes_.

“Because we’re human.” And Yuy smiled, a brief gleam of teeth that was fierce and reassuring but not very friendly.

Every twenty minutes, the various teams radioed in, reported no progress, no sign of AR-3 or any human civilization.

“I’m not surprised there’s no signs of humans, Earth-born or otherwise,” Yuy said. “This was floated as a possible alpha site, after all.”

And then Maxwell said, “Major B, I got a hit.”

“Hit?” Jack echoed.

“Looks like signs of a scuffle. Broken branches. And - drag marks. Multiple bodies being dragged. And - _k’so_.”

Yuy came alert at the sound of his own language. “ _Nani o?_ ”

“We just found Dr. Kusanagi’s expedition tags,” Cadman said grimly.

Expedition tags were for scientists what dog tags were for a soldier. No one ever took them off.

Raberba chimed in. “Perhaps she left them as a sign. Like breadcrumbs for Hansel and Gretel.”

“Who?” Jack asked. He shook his head. “Never mind. What’s your twenty?”

Cadman reported her and Maxwell’s coordinates, and Jack told her to stay put, that they’d rendezvous ASAP.

Hansen was American through and through, had grown up hunting and trapping with her grandfather, father, numerous uncles, and even more numerous brothers.

“Yeah, four bodies dragged.” She knelt and peered at the dirt. “On the bright side, captors were barefoot.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Really?” Barefoot potentially meant the captors were low-tech. Wraith typically wore boots, right?

“Never seen a barefoot Wraith,” Chang murmured.

That answered that. Jack made a decision. “Lead the way, Hansen.”

She nodded and straightened up, took point. The rest of the soldiers fell into position behind her, with Yuy bringing up their six. Jack radioed back to the pair at the gate and let them know what Hansen had discovered, gave their coordinates and said they’d follow the tracks and radio in every twenty minutes. If they failed to radio in, dial the SGC for further back-up.

“It’d be pretty lame if our rescue team needed a rescue,” Maxwell said.

Raberba sighed. “It is Pegasus.”

 _Pegasus_ seemed to be a catch-all explanation for the way things would go wrong if they could go wrong on a mission.

They walked, Hansen following the tracks, reporting new information as she figured it out - at least twelve captors, enough for two per captive, so perhaps the captors had done recon on the team before taking them? Which meant they might be being watched.

“Should’ve brought a jumper and an LSD,” Jack murmured. It was what Evan would have done. He wouldn’t have just marched through the gate, willy-nilly, and assumed four extra Marines and a pyromaniac would be enough. Granted, Teldy hadn’t ordered him to take a jumper, but he also hadn’t asked. All of Jack’s team save Jack had the Gene naturally. One of them could have piloted a jumper. Jack had been a skilled field commander, had gone to the best military academy Gilboa - his planet - could offer. He was a damn good officer. He forced himself to take a deep breath. This was standard SAR. They were likely dealing with human natives who were much more primitive technologically. They had enough ordnance to blow half the continent sky-high if necessary, and if that wasn’t enough, Maxwell and Cadman could probably make some more.

Jack took another deep breath, and -

He hissed out a command for a halt. He listened again, and he heard a woman’s voice.

Women’s voices.

Jack signaled for the others to listen - it had taken him longer than he’d liked, to learn new CRE hand signals - and waited till he saw that all of them heard what he’d heard. Then he headed to the front of the line to take point. He sent Barton ahead for recon, and everyone waited in silence till he returned.

Barton’s hand signals indicated he’d seen an enemy encampment, at least a couple dozen hostiles, and six hostages. AR-3 plus Kusanagi.

Jack ordered everyone forward in file formation till he reached the clearing and he saw -

A primitive village. Mud huts. Grass roofs. Some kind of communal fire pit. And three posts in the central clearing. Kusanagi was tied to one. Evan, Walker, and Coughlin were tied to another. Stevens and Reed were tied to the third. None of them looked hurt. In fact, none of them were even gagged.

All of the village denizens were female. There were no children, and there were no men. Were they all hidden inside the houses? Was this a matriarchal society?

Jack couldn’t hear what was being said, but he saw Evan strain against his bonds, call out, saw one of the women pause to respond to him.

The women were, as Hansen had reported, barefoot. None of them were armed. Jack didn’t see any weapons lying around either. As he watched, the woman Evan had called out to hurried away, then returned a few moments later with some kind of bowl. She knelt beside Evan and held it out to him, tipped it so he could drink.

Evan and the rest of the team had been stripped of their weapons and shoes but, curiously, not their tac vests. Perhaps the villagers thought the vests were just clothes.

Jack signaled for line abreast formation, and as they formed a horizontal line along the edge of the clearing, Jack caught Cadman by the shoulder.

“Might be a matriarchal society,” he whispered. “No men, no children, Kusanagi segregated from the rest. You go in first, and we’ll cover you.”

Cadman nodded. “All right.”

“And switch on your radio, so we can hear.”

Cadman nodded again, straightened up, and Jack signaled the others to be ready. Maxwell and Raberba both shouldered their P-90’s with practiced ease, poised to shoot on command.

Cadman stepped out of the trees and toward the village, moving at a casual saunter. She lifted one hand and waved. “Hey there!”

“Who are you?” The woman who’d been giving Evan water rose up.

“Name’s Laura. My friends went out for a walk and didn’t come home. Thought I’d check on them.”

The woman stood in front of Evan, and other women drifted over, arrayed themselves between Cadman and the captured Atlantis personnel.

“You say these are your men?” the woman asked.

“In a manner of speaking.” Cadman kept her tone politely neutral.

“If you have so many men, you must come from a large tribe,” the woman said.

“The Cadmans are a pretty darn large tribe, it’s true.” Cadman laughed, the sound light and sweet.

“Surely you can spare some men for us when we have none.”

Jack blinked.

“You have no men?” Cadman echoed.

“The disease came and took them all, young and old alike.” The woman sounded - weary. “Your men survived. They are strong. We need strong blood to breed -”

“Whoa, hey, who said anything about breeding? There will be no breeding,” Cadman said. “You need to let my friends go.”

“Your friends? You said they were your men.” Wariness was sharp in the other woman’s voice.

“They’re men who are my friends. Except Kusanagi. She’s a woman.” Cadman waved. “Hi, Miko! You okay?”

There was a faint, “Just fine!” in response, and then, “But I’d like to go home now!”

“Men are not friends,” the woman snapped. “They are seed and blood to keep us alive, that is all. Men are rare and precious and -”

“Either you let my friends go,” Cadman said, “or I have to get mean. And I don’t want to get mean.”

“You cannot take these men from us,” the woman hissed. “We need them. Clearly you do not, if you mistreat them so, letting them roam these forests with only a single woman for protection.”

“Mistreat?” Cadman spluttered.

“It’s no use,” Evan said. He sounded tired. “They won’t listen to us. They haven’t hurt us so far, but -”

Jack knew. Remembered first the sumptuous bedroom with the four-poster bed and the high-count linen sheets, then the smaller room with the single bunk, then the blind-dark cell and the occasional forays into another room, and through it all, Lucinda. Lucinda. Lucinda.

He tapped his radio. “Cadman, we’re coming in.” He ordered Chang to radio back to the gate with coordinates and ask Sherman and Ramirez to have Atlantis on standby.

And then he strode into the clearing, weapon at the ready.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, anyone regularly beaten down by canon, I Shall Rise."
> 
> Jack's first SAR mission is a lesson in falling and rising.

Jack was used to people reacting badly to his presence. Not everyone was pleased to see the king’s son, and not everyone was pleased to see a superior officer, especially if he was there to break up the fun (because he was a damn good officer, and he kept things running smoothly). The way the women reacted when they saw him was -

Frightening. Jack knew the avarice in their eyes. Had seen it in Lucinda’s eyes. Still saw it in his nightmares. But he kept his chin up and moved to stand right beside Cadman, precisely parallel to her, so the women knew he was not submissive, that he was her equal.

“None of you are armed,” he said. “We don’t wish to hurt you. We only wish the return of our people.”

“Another man,” the spokeswoman breathed, eyes wide. She turned to Cadman. “Does he have the gift of the gods?”

Cadman frowned. “I’m unaware of any such gift.”

“The Gene,” Evan said tiredly. “She wants to know if Major Benjamin has The Gene.”

Everyone on Evan’s team was natural Gene carriers. They’d been kidnapped over that fact before. Jack had been given the Gene therapy, and it had taken, though in a limited sense, and the scientists never requested him for lightswitch duty.

“They have the means to detect the Gene?” Cadman asked.

That meant Ancient tech. The women were unarmed and primitive-looking, but -

Evan nodded.

“Silence, man!” the spokeswoman snarled, rounding on Evan. “Do not interfere in matters beyond your ken.”

Jack’s mind raced. However technologically inferior these women were, they’d been combat-savvy enough to get the drop on Evan and his entire team. They were dangerous, and they were desperate. Jack knew what desperate people were capable of.

Raberba’s voice spilled over the radio. “Don’t hurt them. They’re primitive and desperate to survive. Their society has evolved around their need to survive, and so that means males are a precious commodity.”

 _People aren’t commodities_ , Jack thought viciously, but he was a soldier and an officer and had almost been a king. Sometimes people were.

But he was no longer in a country where they had to be.

“Major?” Cadman asked.

Jack shouldered his rifle. “Either return our colleagues,” he said, “or we start inflicting damage. Damage I don’t think you can withstand.” Only where were the weapons confiscated from Evan’s team? Were the women smart enough to figure out how to use them?

“Major,” Raberba protested. “Reason with them. We could - we could bring them to Atlantis, help them find a new planet to go to, one with men.”

“Sir?” Cadman pressed again.

Jack took a deep breath. “What if we could help you meet more men? Take you to a place where men are plentiful, where they don’t need to be - protected and kept. Where they are plentiful enough to roam free.”

The spokeswoman narrowed her eyes. “What place? All the tribes of this land are thus, with few men to breed and trade.”

Breed and trade. Jack swallowed down the bile in his throat. “We could take you to a new land.”

“What other lands are there?”

“Through the Ring of the Ancestors.”

The spokeswoman’s eyes went wide. “The Ring of the Ancestors? You know how to unlock it?”

“That was what we were trying to tell you,” Evan said. “We come in peace, to trade. If what you need is men, we can help you meet some, but you can’t keep us.”

The spokeswoman knelt beside Evan, one arm in front of him protectively. “These men we could have -”

“Not have, _meet_ ,” Jack said firmly. “If they choose to - to help you have more children, great, but you can’t force them.”

“Would these men be as healthy and strong?” She prodded Evan’s arm for emphasis. “These men have all their teeth, are clean.” She stroked a hand over Evan’s flank like he was some kind of prize heifer. “And they have the Gift of the Gods.”

“There are many healthy and strong men through the Ring of the Ancestors,” Jack said. “But you must let our people go.”

“And if you go, how do we know you’ll come back?” the spokeswoman asked.

Jack lowered his rifle. “You have my word.”

“I need a token of your word.” The spokeswoman petted Evan’s hair. “Let us keep just one, and you can have the rest, and the woman.”

Jack wanted to rip her hands off. “Let him go. You can keep me as your token.”

“Jack!” Evan shook his head, caught Jack’s eye. He was the only one here who knew what Jack had been through before. “No. Let them keep me. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. They’ve been nice to me.”

“No, Major Lorne. You should go back to Atlantis and explain the situation to Dr. Weir.” Jack unclipped his P-90 from his vest and handed it to Cadman, who accepted it after some hesitation. “You’ve had extended contact with the people here. Your knowledge is more important than mine. This isn’t anything I can’t handle.”

“Major Benjamin,” Evan hissed, “ _no_.”

Jack smirked. “We’re the same rank. You can’t order me around.” He lifted his chin at the spokeswoman. “Is my bond acceptable?” He stood tall and held his ground when she left Evan’s side, circled him, ran her hands over his arms - he hadn’t removed his tac vest - and demanded to see his teeth.

She stood back, nodded. “Your bond is acceptable.” She barked an order to the other women, and they moved to untie Evan and his teammates and Kusanagi. They staggered to their feet, muscles cramped and sore. The women even brought them their shoes and weapons. Raberba had been right. The less bloodshed, the better.

And then Evan pressed his rifle into Kusanagi’s hands. “Go. I’ll stay with Major Benjamin.”

Jack, who was allowing the spokeswoman to lead him over to one the huts, paused. “Evan -”

Evan met his gaze. “That’s an order, Kusanagi.”

She nodded and turned away. Jack gritted his teeth and turned back toward Evan. He opened his mouth to tell Evan how insane he was, and then -

A piercing sound cut through the air. Jack froze, sure his ears were bleeding. Only - he was frozen. Paralyzed. At his core. He couldn’t breathe. It was spreading. Up his chest. Down his hips. He staggered. He saw Evan’s teammates stagger and fall. But not Kusanagi. Not Cadman. Not -

Jack managed to turn his head.

There. The spokeswoman had a device. It was emitting blue light. Ancient light. It was affecting the men and the men only.

Jack managed to voice a final command before the paralysis overtook his entire body.

“Cadman, fall back! Take all of them with you!”

And then he collapsed. This must have been how they’d done it, how they’d overtaken Lorne’s team with what little technology they had. They had enough to be dangerous.

Cadman turned and ran. Hansen leaped out of the undergrowth and managed to grab Stevens by the collar, drag him back toward safety.

“They’re taking the men!” the spokeswoman yelled.

Battle cries filled the air and Jack could only watch, helpless, as the women charged Hansen. She opened fire. More gunfire erupted from the trees behind her, but not nearly enough to hold all the women back.

No. The weapon must have caught the rest of the men who’d stayed behind the treeline. They hadn’t stayed far enough behind.

Some of the women screamed and fell, but there was mad rustling in the trees, and Jack hoped and prayed that Cadman and Hansen made it back to the gate for help, because there were also cries of triumph and victory.

Jack could move his eyes, could see Evan prone on the ground. Saw him straining to move. Saw him twitch a hand. Extend an arm. Reaching for a P-90. _Yes, Evan, please, you can make it -_

The spokeswoman saw it too. That piercing sound stabbed Jack’s eardrums again, and the world turned red, then black, then to nothing.

*

Jack came back to consciousness slowly. Something hard was pressed against his face. And his spine. He had to blink several times till the gray and brown and blurry world resolved itself into - bars. Cages. He was in a cage in one of those damn huts. When he moved and tested his range of motion, his entire body screamed. Whether it was from the stun device or because he was in a cage where he couldn’t sit upright or stretch his legs all the way out, he didn’t know.

This was one pathetic rescue. Jack took a few deep breaths, forced himself alert. He was Major Benjamin of the Atlantis Expedition. He was a soldier and a skilled operative. He would get his men out of there. Head count. His entire team, including Raberba. Evan’s entire team, but no Kusanagi. Maxwell from Cadman’s team. Sherman had been back at the gate, had been out of range of the stun weapon. That was a lot of men to work with.

Only this time the women had been more thorough, taken their tac vests as well as their weapons and shoes. Being barefoot kept them vulnerable, unable to run.

And like lightning, Jack knew. It had been a trap. The women had probably gotten the jump on Evan’s team through sheer superiority of numbers, listened to what they had to say - about more men where they came from, the Ring of the Ancestors, about back-up - and waited for more men to come through the gate. This was what they’d wanted all along.

None of the others looked like they were awake. Jack set about waking them up by creating an unholy racket. Yuy came awake first, followed by Maxwell, Chang, and Barton.

“Sir,” Yuy said, and let loose a stream of profanity in his native tongue that set Maxwell and Chang to laughing hoarsely.

Evan was in the cage right beside Jack’s, but he blinked awake slowly.

The door of the hut swung open, and the spokeswoman stomped into the hut. She slammed a stick against the bars of Jack’s cage. He flinched instinctively.

“Shut up!” she hissed. “We are only safe so long as no one knows we’re here.”

“Let us out,” Jack snarled. “Or be it on your heads when our comrades come for us.”

He realized he’d miscalculated again when her furious expression smoothed out. He’d become complacent, going on easy surveying missions with Raberba and the men. If he’d thought the politics of home were perilous, he’d not dealt with enough people who were Wraith-ravaged and prepared to survive at all costs.

“They will not be coming for you,” the spokeswoman said. “Because they will never find you. You awakened quickly. That means you are strong. Strong is what we need.”

Jack glanced at Evan. He was fully awake and alert now.

The spokeswoman eyed them. “Which of you woke first?”

Evan opened his mouth. Jack spoke first.

“I did.”

The spokeswoman eyed him, then turned and called for someone. Another woman appeared, and she was carrying another Ancient-looking device.

“Even if you woke first,” the spokeswoman said, extending the device toward Jack’s cage, “we seek one who is Gifted.”

Jack remembered the few times he’d been called to lightswitch duty in the lab. _Think it on_ and _think harder_ were such vague, frustrating instructions. He thought so hard at the device that his head started to pound, he was sure his nose was going to bleed from the pressure, but sure enough, the device lit up, bright and almost cheery. Jack wanted to smash it.

The spokeswoman frowned and swung the device over toward Evan, and it flared brighter.

Dammit.

Evan took a deep breath, was steeling himself for what he thought was coming. He had no idea what was coming. Jack Benjamin was not a good person, not a nice person, but he knew what was coming.

He pressed closer to the bars of the cage. “They say a single volunteer is worth ten slaves,” he said. “I’m volunteering.” He had years practice to be good at this, the inviting dip of his head, the heat in his eyes, the right smile.

“Jack,” Evan said in a low voice, but Jack didn’t even twitch toward him, didn’t look at him, didn’t dare.

“Do you?” the spokeswoman asked.

Jack thought at the device as hard as it could, and his ears roared, his head was splitting wide open, but - victory. The device flared blinding bright, brighter than it had for Evan, and the spokeswoman nodded.

“This one,” she said to the other women, and Jack watched very closely as they unlocked his cage. He knew Evan watched closely as well. These women had some pieces of Ancient technology, but mostly they were primitive. Walker could pick these locks easily.

“Do your juvenile delinquent thing,” Jack called out, loud enough for Walker to hear, and submitted easily enough as the women hauled him to his feet and dragged him out of the hut.

He expected to be taken to another hut, but instead they frog-marched him through the smattering of huts to -

A cave. A cave that had been hollowed out by advanced technology. Ancient technology, most likely. They led him through a slowly descending tunnel to an Ancient lab, just like the ones on Atlantis, only the central feature was not a puzzling console but a massive device that looked more like a decorative fountain than anything. It had an Ancient Control Chair, too.

Jack forced himself to breathe normally. He’d never been able to get the Chair on Atlantis to work. They’d realize he’d tricked them. They wouldn’t kill him, but they’d go back and get one of the others, probably Evan. Evan could make the Chair work. He couldn’t let the women see him panicking, couldn’t let them know that he was anything but supremely confident.

The women led him over to the Chair, pushed him down into it. He landed hard, but he cast them his _baby I like it rough_ smile, and the avarice and lust in their eyes was gratifying and terrifying all at once. His plan was working. He’d have to do this.

The spokeswoman looked at him for a long moment, then signaled one of the other women - younger, a bit more timid-looking - to go to Jack.

She sidled toward him, hesitant. Jack knew how to play this game, had grown up playing it in all the best clubs of Gilboa. He sat up straighter and, when the young woman was close enough, put his hands on her waist, drew her close, leaned in, and kissed her.

The kiss tasted like ashes and dust and death.

He could do this. He’d done it before, for his father’s love, for his father’s throne. He could do this to save his men, to save Evan, to -

No. Never again.

All it took was a twitch and a spin, and he had the girl turned around, his chest pressed up against her back, his arms locked around her throat. One twist and her spine would break. He’d done worse things than kill a girl.

“One wrong move and she dies,” he snarled.

The spokeswoman sneered and that icy punch of paralysis hit his core again.

Jack toppled backward, terror clawing through him, waiting for the hands on his clothes, under his clothes, the body on his, but the girl backpedaled, frightened, and the other women tied him down to the chair.

Which reclined and began to glow blue.

“I will accept anger over the energy of life-making - for now,” the spokeswoman said. She nodded at her minions. “Prepare him for use.”

Jack was pathetically relieved when all they did was stick needles in him.

Their set-up was the strangest mix of primitive and Ancient tech. They were doing something incredibly strange with his blood, pumping it out of him - with a hand pump operated by volunteers working in shifts - and pumping it through a filter and then back into him. As the blood went through the filter, Jack hoped that they didn’t kill him after this, that they would keep him alive for other things, that they wouldn’t punish the others for his attempted rebellion. He studied the machine and he wondered and he puzzled. They had no ZPM. They needed men to power the machine, then, and not just for children. Or maybe for both? Maybe they usually used children - male children - and needed men to provide children? He’d seen no children in the village, not of either gender.

Their Ancient tech was gender-segregating, too. Had their society always been this way, or had it developed around the tech? Jack’s mind was racing. He thought he might be getting dizzy from the lack of blood, but the fountain device was glowing. How was the Chair working if they had no ZPM? Maybe the ZPM was depleted, maybe they had some way of storing the energy they were getting out of his blood. Chances were they didn’t know how the tech worked, they just knew how to operate it. Like trained monkeys, as McKay would say.

Dammit. Jack really was losing his head. What did the device do? Why were the women so desperate? What -?

And in a flash of clarity - or blood-loss-induced insanity - he knew. The machine shielded their presence from life signs detectors. It was why the first recon teams had thought the place uninhabited, had thought it would make a good Alpha Site.

The Wraith likely left the planet alone as well.

Would any SAR troops from Atlantis be able to find them, while the machine was operational? What kind of shielding capability did it have? McKay would be interested for sure.

Jack knew the machine was affecting him, was making his thought processes sluggish. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, and it was getting harder to breathe.

And then another girl appeared, bearing a bowl of thick broth. She held it to his lips. “Drink. It will give you strength. You need your strength.”

To power the machine.

Whatever it was smelled delicious.

Jack’s stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he’d eaten? How long had he been unconscious? The sky had seemed no less bright as he was dragged through the village than it had been when he’d arrived on the planet. Did that mean an entire day had passed? Or hours? Or -

The girl tilted the bowl. “Drink.”

Jack slurped up a mouthful - thought of the look on his mother’s face at him making such a sound, pushed the image aside - and then another and another -

He shook his head and sat back. “No.” He remembered this. This trick. Starving him out till he was hungry and dehydrated and giving him food and drink that was drugged, poisoned, that made unnatural heat prickle through his veins, that made his body respond to Lucinda even while his mind screamed.

“Drink,” the girl insisted.

“I said no!”

The girl pushed the bowl at him more insistently. He ducked his head, caught the edge of it in his teeth, and tossed his head, sent it flying.

The girl cried out, and immediately more women spilled into the room, armed with spears and staffs and stone knives.

The spokeswoman crossed the room, backhanded Jack across the face. It didn’t even make him bleed. He spat remnants of stew at her. She slapped him again.

The spokeswoman said, “Let him starve, then, if he cares so little for his own life.” And she spun on her heel and walked away. The nervous girl knelt to clean up the mess.

The other minions continued pumping.

Jack forced himself to breathe as normally as possible. He waited for that sensation, for the drugs to kick in. Even if these women had little advanced technology, he knew there were plant remedies available that could mimic the effect - were the basis of - modern drugs.

But there were no drugs, and okay, maybe they hadn’t poisoned his food. This was wasn’t the palace dungeons all over again. This was the greater Pegasus Galaxy. Jack was a soldier, one of the armed forces of Atlantis. He’d make sure he and his men escaped, got home in one piece.

The key was this machine. And the men-only stun weapon. They’d have to disarm one and destroy the other. McKay would be interested in the shielding machine. And maybe even the stun weapon, too, but it was too much of a liability. It had to be neutralized for escape to be possible.

After who knew how long - there was no way to mark the passage of time in the dim blue glow of the cave - the spokeswoman returned, directed her minions to untie Jack. His limbs had gone numb with the forced stillness in the chair, and he had no choice but to let them manhandle him - womanhandle him? - back to the hut with the rest of the captives.

He had a good idea of the layout of the village, now, and the location of the cave with the tech.

He was pathetically relieved when he saw everyone else was accounted for in their cages before he was shoved back into his.

“What happened?” Evan asked as soon as the women were gone.

Jack explained in brief, clinical terms about the machine and how it worked and what they would need to do to escape. The other soldiers strained to listen in.

“So we bust their dude-stunner, dismantle their shield, and make a break for the gate,” Maxwell said.

Evan nodded. “That’s about the size of it.”

“I can get us out of these cages easy,” Walker said. “But how do we get the dude-stunner? Nothing we do will matter as long as they have that. If we try and bust out and fail, they’ll lock us up even tighter.”

“They didn’t blindfold me when they took me out,” Jack said, “and they haven’t bound our wrists or forbidden us from talking to each other. They seriously underestimate our willingness to fight for our freedom. Probably because they have that device.”

“So?” Walker asked.

“So I bet they’ve underestimated every male they’ve ever encountered,” Evan said.

Jack glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“The boys,” he said.

Jack frowned. “What boys?”

“They sent the boys in here to feed us.”

“So they do have children.”

Evan nodded. “The boys look, well, like a lot of girls I’ve seen on primitive planets. Kinda beaten-down. They seemed confused by Maxwell.”

Maxwell laughed. “It’s the hair. Always the hair.”

Jack eyed Evan. “You think you can convince one of those boys to get the device for us?”

Evan said, “I think I can.”

“How long will that take?” Jack asked. “Because we’re stuck here indefinitely if that device works how I think it does. Atlantis will never find us.”

“I want to take a look at the device,” Maxwell said. “I’ll volunteer to go next.”

Jack shook his head. “No. We should avoid helping them power the device if at all possible. It would take way, way too long to convince one of those cowed kids to help us. We need out ASAP. Walker, where are you on getting us out of these cages?”

“Still making lock picks, sir. They took my tac vest.”

“Let’s go when it’s dark,” Jack said. “Yes, they’ll have guards, but most of them will be asleep.”

“But the device -” Evan began.

“If we get far enough out of range, it won’t affect us. We’ll have to run hard is all.” Jack shrugged, nonchalant.

Evan stared at him. He knew there was no way Jack would be able to run, not after what he’d been through.

“How will we know when it’s darkness?” Reed asked.

“When the boys bring our evening meal,” Chang said.

“So far the food hasn’t proved drugged,” Jack offered.

“We made Coughlin test it first,” Evan admitted.

“Drew the short straw, sir,” Coughlin said wryly, and his teammates laughed.

They discussed the layout of the camp, the way to the trees and to the Stargate, possible ways to slow the women down. Decoys. If even half of them made it, the other half could go for help, armed with better knowledge. Have the rescue team be comprised entirely of females.

It was settled - Jack and Evan and Maxwell acting as decoys, the rest making a break for the gate. Maxwell had plans to make one of the communal fire pits explode.

“Explode with what?” Reed asked.

“I have a couple of caps of C4 I keep in my hair,” Maxwell said.

Jack stared at him. “Your hair?”

Yuy said something insulting but also possibly fond in Japanese, and Maxwell grinned.

Sure enough, the entrance of the hut opened, showing the dim skies of twilight, and boys, none older than ten, trooped into the hut bearing bowls of food. Apparently on top of being matriarchal, this society was very gender-segregated. The boys tended to the men, and the girls tended to the women, except when Jack was being used as a juice pack for Ancient tech.

Evan had been right - the boys moved timidly, cowed. They pressed little cups of broth through the bars, refilling the cups from a central bucket, so each man could have his fill.

One of the boys who was feeding Evan reached out was staring at him fixedly. The boy pressed a hand to his own throat, and Evan swallowed down a mouthful of soup, smiled.

“Yeah, they call it an Adam’s apple. It’s just my voice. Happens, when a boy turns into a man. His voice gets deeper, and his voice box gets more pronounced.”

“You must’ve sounded like you drank helium every day before your voice broke, sir,” Stevens said, and the rest of Evan’s team laughed.

The boy blinked wide eyes at Evan. Most of the women in the village were pale-skinned, light-haired and light-eyed, but the boys were much more varied as far as skin tone, eye color, and hair color. The women were probably opportunistic, taking whichever men happened across them, either from other tribes and villages or the occasional traveler through the gate.

Evan leaned closer to the bars of the cage. “If you put your fingers here, you can feel it when I talk. It’s just my voice.” He pressed his own fingers to his throat and hummed.

The boy reached out, tentative, pressed his fingers through the bars of the cage, shoulders hunched like he was anticipating an attack, but he touched Evan’s throat, and Evan hummed again.

The boy snatched his hands back, eyes wide.

Evan laughed softly. “I know, kind of weird, right?”

The boy touched his own throat, hummed experimentally.

“I’m Evan. What’s your name?” Evan sipped some more of his stew.

Jack knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that blue gaze, that gentle smile.

“Aristo,” the boy said.

“Hi, Aristo. Nice to meet you.”

Evan sipped from his cup again. “Did you make this? It’s very good.” He passed the empty cup through the bars.

Aristo accepted it, handed it to the boy with the bucket for refilling.

“We are not allowed near the fire,” Aristo said, “but we gather the herbs.” He smiled shyly at Evan.

“Well, you did a really good job,” Evan said, and the way Aristo lit up at the praise made Jack wonder exactly how these women treated their precious commodities, their men and boys.

Aristo gazed at Evan. “Will I grow up to be as tall as you?”

“If you eat like you’re supposed to, you might even get taller than me,” Evan said. “How old are you, ten?”

Aristo nodded.

“When I was your age, I was much shorter. You might grow to be as tall as Walker or Reed or Coughlin.” Evan pointed to his teammates.

Aristo followed his gaze.

It was a good tactic. Jack remembered, from his endless lessons on kidnapping tactics, that making oneself more human - with a name and a family and a personality - was key to staying alive while captive.

“What do you do for fun around here?” Evan asked. “Do you play?”

“We stay inside, where it is safe, unless we are gathering herbs,” Aristo said. “We must always stay safe.”

Evan nodded. “Being safe is important.”

“We sew clothes,” Aristo said. “And we tell stories.”

“Telling stories is a great way to pass the time.” Evan sipped his stew slowly. He was drawing this encounter out and strengthening himself with sustenance. He was damn good at this.

For this being Jack’s first SAR, he’d screwed up.

Royally.

He bit back a bitter smile and watched Evan, slowed his own sipping of his stew. It was a trick he knew well - if he was paying attention to Evan, the boy paying attention to him would also pay attention to Evan. One by one, the other soldiers caught on, drinking their stew more slowly even though they were probably terribly hungry, angled in their cages toward Evan, listening.

“One of my favorite stories when I was a kid,” Evan said, “was about David and Goliath.”

Jack nearly dropped his cup.

The kid with the bucket of stew edged closer to Evan’s cage.

“There was once a boy named David,” Evan said. “He was the youngest of many brothers. His father’s name was Jesse. His brothers were soldiers.”

Aristo looked confused at the term.

“Warriors,” Evan said, and Aristo nodded, wide-eyed. It had probably never occurred to him that boys could be warriors.

“David was a shepherd boy,” Evan continued, and when Aristo looked confused, Evan explained that a shepherd was someone who cared for animals who would then be used for food, but Aristo still looked confused.

“They’re hunter-gatherers, by my estimation,” Raberba offered.

Evan caught Aristo’s gaze and said, “David the shepherd boy gathered herbs for his family to eat.”

David the shepherd boy. How could Evan possibly know? Jack stared at Evan, heart pounding. Did he know? Could he possibly know? Jack had never told anyone, never dared -

“An enemy tribe came to attack David’s tribe,” Evan said, “and they sent their fiercest warrior, a giant named Goliath, out to fight. Every day, Goliath would march across the land between the two armies and wave his spear and say he would fight the biggest, strongest, mightiest warrior from David’s tribe, and whoever won this challenge of single combat would be the winner of the entire war.”

“What’s a giant?” Aristo asked.

It was Raberba who said, “A person who is as tall as two people and just as strong.”

Aristo’s eyes went wide, and he sat down on the floor beside Evan’s cage, rested his chin in his hands. “Are there giants where you come from?”

“No,” Evan said. “They’re very rare. Like this giant, Goliath. Every day, he came out and he challenged the armies of David’s tribe, and the army was afraid. David’s brothers were in the army, and they were afraid. David’s father gave David some food and told him to take it to his brothers, and he went. And he saw the giant. And he wasn’t afraid.”

“Why wasn’t he afraid?” Aristo asked.

“I would be afraid,” another boy said.

“He wasn’t afraid because he had fought many dangerous animals trying to eat him while he was gathering herbs,” Evan said. “And so he took a stone, and he went right up to Goliath, and he threw it. And it hit Goliath right between the eyes -” Evan smacked himself in the forehead, and the boys let out an _ooooh_ \- “and Goliath died. And David’s army won.”

“Just like that?” Aristo asked. “With a stone?”

Evan nodded. “Yes. David was very brave when everyone else was afraid.”

“He killed the giant?”

Evan nodded again. “That’s why it’s my favorite story. No one thought Goliath could be defeated, but David did it. David, who was just a little boy.”

Aristo said, “Tell me another story?”

Jack wanted to ask for the same, another story about David the shepherd boy, because he had to hear, had to know if Evan knew, had known all along. He’d never found out just what Evan and his team might have learned about Jack’s planet while they were being interrogated by Gilboan soldiers. Had Evan known all along who Jack was?

Evan cleared his throat. “There was once a man named Samson, a man like Maxwell, with long, long hair -”

The door of the hut banged open. It was dark outside. The spokeswoman snarled at the boys to finish, and at Evan’s signal everyone surrendered their cups, and the boys were escorted outside.

The men were taken, one by one, for bathroom breaks, escorted by a half dozen primitively-armed women and one woman with the dude-stunner, and then it was time to rest.

Jack was exhausted, his entire body aching and heavy despite the stew he’d eaten. But they listened and waited for the village to go to sleep. Even with a few guards, they would have the element of surprise on their side. Most of the men fell into restless sleep while Walker got to work picking the lock on his cage and Raberba, the closest to the door, kept a look-out.

“You seriously keep explosives in your hair?” Evan asked Maxwell.

“Usually lock-picks too, but we got called up on short notice,” Maxwell said in a low voice.

Once Walker made it out of his cage, he made short work of all the other cages. There were hisses of pain as the men stood up, stretched their cramped limbs. Since Maxwell, Jack, and Evan were the decoys, they went to the door first. Peeked out. A single guard just outside the door.

Evan caught her in a sleeper hold, dragged her back into the hut as she passed out. Bound and gagged her with strips torn from his shirt. No sign of the dude-stunner so far, but apart from the guard on their hut, the fires were burning low, and the communal spaces were deserted. Everyone was in their own huts, asleep. That confident in their shields, then, were these women. McKay would definitely want at that tech.

They sent Raberba out first, then the other soldiers one by one, dashing across the darkness toward the trees. Jack gestured for Evan and Maxwell to precede him - he was the weakest link, the slowest in the pack - and started after them. They would make it. They would -

They hit the tree line and there was a flare of Ancient-blue light, and then a shrieking sound. An alarm.

They must have reached the border of the shield.

Jack yelled, “Run!”

Women came pouring out of the huts.

“Maxwell,” Evan shouted, and Jack heard “On it!” and an explosion rocked the ground.

There were screams and shouts, and that piercing sound. Jack dropped like a stone, his body paralyzed in an instant. He panicked. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t -

Evan staggered and fell beside him, and next to one of the fires that was suddenly burning sky-high, Maxwell toppled over.

But Jack saw the Barton clear the tree line without faltering, and he knew they’d at least partially succeeded.

Jack heard other cries, softer, higher, and realized - the boys.

Every time the women activated the weapon, the boys felt it too.

And his world melted into oblivion.

*

Jack awoke bound to the Chair. The women were pumping his blood again, only - no. Not women. Aristo and another boy were working the pumps. There were women guarding the door, but the room was mostly staffed by boys. Was this to let them see their fate, then? When they became men?

Maxwell and Evan were on the floor, bound back-to-back, hands behind them, legs bound at the ankles. Neither looked too worse for wear, but they didn’t look especially happy either.

“Benjamin,” Maxwell said, and Evan craned his neck to try to look at Jack.

“I’m alive.” His voice came out hoarse and dry. “For now. Our boys make it through?”

“Our hostess is less than pleased,” Evan said. “She threw you into that chair - I thought she was going to drain you dry.”

“Not dry,” Aristo said, darting a nervous glance at the women at the door, but they didn’t acknowledge him. “But no one ever leaves the shield. Only hunting parties - and then the shield must be closed before anyone leaves. To leave while the shield is open -”

“The alarms.” Maxwell sighed.

Jack took a deep breath; his chest burned with each inhale. “Hey, Evan. Do you have any more stories? About David the shepherd boy.”

“The only other story I can tell well about David is his downfall,” Evan admitted.

“His downfall?” Jack blinked.

“And that he played music,” Maxwell offered.

Jack’s breath hitched. “You know the stories too?”

“I never listened in Sunday School like I should have,” Maxwell said, “but I remember the song.”

Jack laughed weakly. “They have a song about him?” Of course they had songs about him.

Maxwell raised his voice and began to sing, “ _I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don’t really care for music, do you?_ ” His voice was sweet and strong and deep, and Aristo and the other boy faltered.

Evan picked up the song, his voice not nearly as sweet or deep, but just as strong and clear. “ _It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing hallelujah…_ ”

The baffled king.

Hallelujah.

Maxwell and Evan raised the chorus high, and the two women at the door turned, intrigued.

They sang the second verse, about faith and beauty in the moonlight and cutting hair and broken thrones and Jack didn’t understand, but the song was so beautiful -

They trailed off after the chorus, laughing awkwardly.

“I never remember the rest of the verses,” Maxwell admitted. “But the David totally screwed up. Fell in love with his neighbor’s wife - saw her bathing on the roof in the moonlight - and slept with her, knocked her up, killed her husband to cover it up, and it went all downhill from there. The kid died, too.”

Jack craned his neck to peer at them. “But did David - did he marry the princess?”

“Princess?” Maxwell echoed, puzzled.

“Keep pumping,” one of the guards snapped, and Aristo and his friend hurried to restore the rhythm of their bellows.

Jack closed his eyes. “Tell me more about King David?”

“I was never so good at the Bible,” Evan admitted. “I just remember random stories. My grandmother used to tell them to me all the time. I never read the actual, you know, book.”

Maxwell said, quietly, “I was raised in a Catholic orphanage. Hence my name, Maxwell. Father Maxwell was the priest who ran the orphanage, him and Sister Helen. Anyone who wasn’t adopted got to keep his name. He had us read the Bible every day. I never really believed in it, but it did teach me how to read. Some of the things in it were beautiful.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I got cheated,” Evan said, “because I didn’t get to read the actual words.”

Jack glanced at Aristo. He and his friend were listening, rapt, their bodies tuned toward Evan and Maxwell, but they were pumping steadily.

“If you want to hear the real story of David,” Maxwell said, “you have to know the story of King Saul first.”

“Grandma always skipped that part,” Evan admitted.

“Even though it’s the toughest to read, the King James version is the most poetic.” Maxwell cleared his throat. “ _And the Lord said unto Samuel, Hearken unto the voice of the people in all that they say unto thee, and shew them the manner of the king that shall reign over them._ ”

The timbres of Maxwell’s voice lodged behind Jack’s breastbone. He knew those tones, had grown up hearing them, ringing out of the Reverend Samuels, out of his father, out of Perry at the end of Council. It was the sound of _home_.

For so long, Jack had been scrambling, desperate to learn, to know, to master all that was the inner workings of Atlantis, to make sure he had his feet planted on solid ground but was ready to run in any direction should the foundations of his world shift. For so long, Jack had been running. Had been running.

And he now he realized he hadn’t been running, he’d been drowning. It was too much. Atlantis was too much. Nights out with Evan were too much. Going through the gate was too much. He missed home. He missed his world, the things he knew. He missed _Joseph_.

No. That was the blood loss talking.

Maxwell’s voice was fading in and out because Jack was fading in and out.

The hours were passing.

Atlantis was coming. They had to be coming. They’d find this place. Jack’s first SAR mission was a disaster, but everyone would come out of it alive. And if they didn’t, well, Jack had saved a few lives. A drop in the bucket compared to all the evil and wrong he had wrought in the world, but at least he was paying his debts. A Benjamin never owed any man anything, not in the end, because the world belonged to him, owed him -

He wasn’t that kind of Benjamin anymore. This wasn’t his world. And this wasn’t the end.

Maxwell’s voice penetrated the blood-loss fog that was swirling in Jack’s skull. “ _And Jonathan smote the garrison of the Philistines that was in Geba -_.”

Aristo asked, “Who’s Jonathan?”

Jack opened his eyes. “He was the son of the king.”

Maxwell blinked at him. “You know this story?”

Aristo turned to Jack. “You’re awake.” He scrambled to the other side of the room, then approached with a bowl of stew. “You must drink.”

Jack drank as much as he could, then nudged the bowl aside with his nose when it was empty. “Aristo,” he said, catching the boy’s gaze. “Do you want to be like David, who defeated the Goliath?”

Aristo gazed at Jack with wide eyes.

 _No more falling,_ Jack told himself. _Forever rising._

“Do you?” He kept his voice low.

The two guards at the door were asleep, having been lulled by Maxwell’s voice and hopefully the lateness of the hour.

Aristo said, “How?”

Jack said, “Untie me.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, author's choice, hidden/long-lost royalty."
> 
> Jack's secret gets out.

Elizabeth stared. “And he just...untied you?”

Jack maintained his parade-ground posture. “He did.”

“And you ran for the gate.”

“We disabled the stun device and temporarily dismantled the shield so no alarms would sound - Major Lorne and Dr. Maxwell disabled the guards - and then we made our way to the gate relatively undetected.” Jack almost called the thing the _dude stunner_. He blamed Maxwell.

“And you brought a dozen boys with you.”

“Dr. Lindsay in anthropology has identified several matriarchal societies in the Ancient Database that would be willing to take the boys in without mistreating them,” Jack said. “She also believes that between her and Dr. McKay, they can convince the local population of Planet Waterfalls to agree to modifications to the shielding mechanism that won’t require using males as batteries.” Jack tactfully left out any mention of using males as breeding stock.

“Where are those boys now?”

“Major Lorne thought it would be fitting to allow some of the Marines to exercise their leadership skills. I understand a game of Simon Says is underway in one of the common rooms right now.” Jack kept his hands clasped respectfully behind his back. “Further details as you may require will be in my after-action report, ma’am.”

“Carson cleared you for active duty ongoing?”

“Yes, ma’am. The local stew was actually quite hearty and nutritious.” Jack smiled briefly, a gleam of teeth that was meant to be reassuring and had always been for people who’d known him Before Atlantis.

Elizabeth didn’t look all that convinced, but she nodded. “You walked into a difficult and surprising situation, Major Benjamin, but by all accounts you acquitted yourself well. Off-world missions are probably far outside the realm of what you trained for, but Major Lorne and Lieutenant Cadman report you comported yourself admirably, and everyone came back alive and generally unharmed.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Major Lorne and Lieutenant Cadman are excellent officers themselves.”

And finally, Elizabeth smiled. “Go, rest. Consider yourself and your team on stand-down for the next forty-eight hours.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack inclined his head politely, brought his heels together sharply, and then departed. Elizabeth Weir wasn’t his commanding officer, but she was the ranking official on base, and even if he did not salute her, he knew to respect her. She was, for all intents and purposes, his queen.

He left her office, intending to head for the AR-7 Team Office to check in with his men, but Maxwell caught up to him on the way to the transporter.

“Hey, Major B.”

Jack paused. “Doc.”

Maxwell blinked at him. “No one but Lorne calls me that. Anyway, after we were, you know, telling stories, back there on Planet Waterfalls, I thought maybe you’d like to read some of them. For yourself.” He pressed a black, leather-bound book into Jack’s hands.

The title was inscribed on the front in gold lettering. _Holy Bible._

According to the spine, it was the _King James Version_.

“Growing up in a Catholic orphanage, we used a bunch of different versions of The Bible,” Maxwell said, “but Father Maxwell always liked us to read this version, for the poetry. The story you’re looking for begins in the First Book of Samuel.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. Apart from the military manuals Colonel Sheppard had given him, a few graphic novels and comic books and manga suggested by Dr. Naoe, and one large history volume about Earth that Jack had borrowed from the base Archivist, he didn’t have much in the way of personal entertainment, and he had to know how the story went, if somehow his story had been told on another planet.

It was possible, wasn’t it?

On Earth, they’d listened to legends of Atlantis for centuries, and the reality had been - markedly different. The Goa’uld had, by all accounts, propagated and perpetuated legends of gods and goddesses, monsters and angels and demons. What else had the Ancients told the people of Earth?

Only Jack’s life wasn’t history, wasn’t ancient, wasn’t long-dead.

“The stories in there are pretty good, even if you’re not in it for the spiritual value,” Maxwell said. “There’s drama and intrigue, battles and betrayals, love and poetry.” His gaze softened, and he quoted, “ _And it came to pass that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul._ ”

Jack swallowed down the lump that rose suddenly in his throat.

“I never really understood it, at first,” Maxwell said. “That _thing_ that soldiers have, that’s beyond brotherhood or friendship or even romance, that soul-deep bond. But I - I think I get it, now. Jonathan and David never made sense to me before, but now they do.”

Jack smoothed a thumb over the cover of the book. “Did David love Jonathan back?”

Maxwell grinned. “Read and find out! Email me if any of the old grammar is confusing. It’s can be confusing, kinda like Shakespeare, but less dense.”

“Shakespeare?” Jack echoed.

Maxwell laughed. “I keep forgetting. Talk to Qatra - he’ll set you straight on Shakespeare. Later, Major B.” And he trotted away.

“Later, Doc,” Jack said. He headed for the transporter. He’d check on his men first, because that was what a good CO did, and then he’d go back to his room and he’d read.

Captain Yuy and the others were sitting very primly at their desks, which was totally unlike them - or like them in the weeks after they’d first been assigned together as a team.

“Captain,” Jack began, but Raberba rose up, cup of tea in hand.

“Sit, Major. Drink.” Raberba smiled, but Jack saw the tension, the worry in his eyes.

Jack wanted to refuse, but he, like the others, was frustratingly helpless when it came to Raberba’s smiles, so he sat down before his laptop and accepted the cup of tea, sipped it. “How are you all doing?” He was unused to this, unused to time with his men feeling like tea with members of the cabinet.

“Fine,” Yuy said, and Barton nodded his agreement.

Chang was twirling a pen with admirable dexterity, spinning it across his thumbnail and back again. “And you, sir?”

“Dr. Beckett gave me a clean bill of health. Dr. Weir has given us forty-eight hours’ stand-down, though. So once you’re done writing your AARs, I’d better not see you doing any soldiering.” Jack smiled at them.

Yuy, Barton, and Chang exchanged knowing looks.

“What would you recommend we do?” Yuy asked.

“I don’t know about you,” Jack said, “but I think I might take some time to read.” He waggled the book Maxwell had given him.

Barton raised his eyebrows.

Raberba perked up. “Are you interested in faith?”

“I’m interested in stories,” Jack said. “And some of the most important stories in a culture are from pages outside of history books. So - when I’m done with this one, I’m open to suggestions.”

“Noted,” Chang said, eyes gleaming with challenge.

Jack finished his tea. “It was delicious, thank you,” he said to Raberba, inclining his head gratefully. “Now, really, stop soldiering as soon as possible. Play music, or a video game.”

“Is that an order, Major?” Yuy asked.

“Not from me, but from our queen.” Jack smiled and swept out of the room, book in hand.

His heart was pounding as he got closer and closer to his quarters. He had to know what it said. Had to read.

Maxwell hadn’t been kidding. The grammar was tough. Jack had gone to great lengths to learn to read English - because the gate translation system worked on spoken languages but not written languages - and even though Jack had heard Maxwell recite these words, reading them on the page was a lot harder. He was sure the poetry was lost on him, but as soon as he was back in his quarters he opened the book to the First Book of Samuel, laid it on his desk, and rolled up his sleeves.

He had to know.

What it said was -

Impossible.

It spoke of Shiloh, and Samuels, and his sister Michelle, and his father and mother, and it spoke of David playing music.

Jack closed the book, his heart hammering in his chest. He had to go find someone, ask, see if anyone knew, anyone could explain.

His first thought was of Dr. Heightmeyer, but no, he didn’t dare go see her. Dr. Beckett had declared him fit for active duty. He wasn’t about to ruin that. He’d made mistakes on this last mission, but he’d learned. The only way he was going to do better, was going to make himself indispensable to the expedition was to keep working, to keep learning, to outstrip himself every time he stepped through the gate. To be the best soldier he could be, so the rest of the men and women of Atlantis could rely on him. Could trust him.

And then Jack thought of Evan. It was Evan who’d first mentioned the story, told it. Evan who’d known the story from childhood. Maxwell knew the book from which the story originated, but Jack suspected Evan knew things about the story that Maxwell couldn’t have learned from his books. And Evan had been on Jack’s planet, been to Gilboa, been in Shiloh.

Was this Evan’s way of telling Jack that he knew who Jack really was, and it didn’t matter? Because it really didn’t, not in the grand scheme of things, not when Jack was out and about in the rest of the galaxy, when the universe was so big and Jack was so small, King Silas was so small, Gilboa was so small.

Jack stood up, fumbled for his radio. “Major Benjamin for Control.”

“Go for Control,” Amelia said.

“I need a twenty on Major Lorne.”

“Roger that.” There was a pause, then, “Major Lorne is on Level 28, overseeing the care and feeding of the refugees from Planet Waterfall.”

Jack knew he should have checked in with Aristo and the rest of the boys, that it would have been the nice thing, the kind thing to do, but he was Jack Benjamin. He wasn’t a nice person. He’d accepted that about himself. But he wanted to be a good person. He wanted to be like - David. Like Evan.

“Thanks, Control. Over and out.”

The person to talk to, then, was Evan. For all the drowning Jack had felt, Evan had been the light on the shore, showing Jack where to swim to safety. Evan’s voice had pierced the darkness of Jack’s cell. Evan had been beside Jack every step of the way, ever since Jack had asked to go with them to Atlantis.

Jack’s heart was beating a rapid tattoo in his chest as he headed for the transporter. He punched in the coordinates for Level 28, and then he headed for the big common room up there, the one he’d heard Evan talking to Teyla about setting up as a dorm for the boys till one of the planets Dr. Lindsay had identified was ready to take them.

He heard the boys before he saw them, as loud and raucous as the classrooms of his childhood. The boys they’d brought through the gate had been broken, dispirited. Under Evan’s watchful care, they’d gotten their spirits back. Jack paused in the doorway, watched Evan and Aristo helping the boys lay out their bedrolls. Walker and Stevens were showing the boys how to brush their teeth. Reed and Coughlin were doling out face-washings with washcloths and a bowl of warm water. Raberba was there, combing hair. Yuy and Chang were making little toys out of paper. And Maxwell - Maxwell was telling some of them stories, his long-fingered hands fluttering.

He must have been telling the tale of Samson, the one Evan had started to tell for Aristo, because he held up his long braid and made a scissoring motion near the top of it, at the base of his skull, and the little boys sitting on the floor around him made sounds of shock and horror.

Aristo noticed Jack first, turned toward him with a smile and a cry of, “Major B!”

Before Jack knew what was what, boys were swarming him, for hugs and for affection. Jack had learned the dance of affection for cameras, for when he was supporting Michelle on one of her charitable campaigns or an orphanage opening or something else Mother thought the royal family ought to attend, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden dozen children gazing up at him, wanting his attention. His emotion.

“Hello, Aristo,” he said carefully.

Aristo stood proud and tall. “Sergeant Sherman was teaching us about Marines and what it means to be men. Men are tough and strong and have big muscles.” He crooked one arm and flexed his bicep for emphasis. “Men don’t cry and men always fight to defend the people they love. _Ooh-rah!_ ”

“Well,” Jack said, amused at the little Marine before him, “I _am_ a man, but I’m not a Marine. I’m from the Army. In fact, I’m the only Army officer in all of Atlantis. Other people, like Major Lorne, are from the Air Force. They fly.”

Evan crouched down beside Jack. “Maybe Marines don’t cry, but they do give hugs, right?” He reached out and looped an arm around one of the other boys, pulled him close, and the boy immediately snuggled against him trustingly.

Evan glanced at Jack, and Jack opened his arms, and Aristo stepped into Jack’s embrace.

Jack had never appreciated just how small and frail a child was - and how alive. Aristo was warm and soft-skinned and smelled like clean soap and fresh air. He burrowed close, and of course, if the women had been in charge, had assumed the roles of protectors and hunters and warriors, the men - what men the boys ever saw - would have been relegated to nurturing and rearing. Affection.

So Jack folded Aristo in his arms and squeezed him tightly for a moment, then let him go, and one by one he hugged the other children, quietly terrified of the way they were trusting him. They didn’t know how close he’d come to obliterating them and their entire civilization earlier that day. He was aware of Evan watching him, expression amused and maybe a little fond.

When it was done, Evan shooed the boys toward Maxwell, who did a headcount and then had them all go line up in front of their bedrolls, recite the prankster’s creed ( _we solemnly swear we are up to no good_ ), and then it was lights out.

“Control said you were looking for me?” Evan followed Jack out of the common room. “I heard you were on stand-down.”

“Yeah. I need to write my AAR and then I’m footloose and fancy free for forty-eight hours.” Jack had picked up many Earther idioms from watching films, and he knew using them well set the others at ease. He was one of them. He was fitting in. “I just wanted to ask you - Maxwell lent me his Bible.”

Evan took a deep breath. “Look, Jack, I grew up hearing those stories, but I don’t really subscribe to the particulars. A lot of the things written in there are - metaphorical. Or are attached to a particular historical context that no longer applies. Maxwell doesn’t believe everything in there either.”

Jack edged away from the common room, down a corridor that was largely unused except for storage rooms. “Is anything in that book true?”

“I think some of the concepts are,” Evan said softly. “Like loving and forgiving and not judging.”

Jack shook his head. “I mean about the people, the places, the events.”

“Well, Jerusalem and Egypt and Rome are real places. Political boundaries have shifted over centuries and millennia, of course.”

“You know how Earth had old, old myths about Atlantis, myths that ended up being real, but not in the way people think? And myths about old gods that ended up being the Goa’uld?”

Evan nodded, brow furrowed in confusion. “Yes. But -”

“What about the people in the Bible? Were any of them actually real? People like David and Goliath. And - and Jonathan.”

Evan blinked. “I’m neither a theologian nor an historian, but I don’t think so.” He took a deep breath, stepped closer to Jack. “Look, the Bible - and Christianity - are far from the only religions on Earth. I’m sure Doc Raberba would be willing to teach you more about his religion. I know a whole lot of us have religions on our dog tags, but you don’t have to pick any religion.” Evan lowered his voice. “There are a lot of options to choose from, ones that won’t make you -”

Jack tossed his head impatiently. “Is there a chance, any chance at all, that the tales in the Bible, like the tales about Atlantis, are true? Only they came from far away - from another galaxy, even - and that maybe they weren’t like anyone thought, but they were close enough?”

Evan sighed. “Yes, I’m sure there’s a chance. Given that no one we’ve run into so far has really claimed to be part of Christianity, I don’t think Dr. Jackson or anyone else in archaeology or anthropology has looked into it, but there’s a chance. Stories come from somewhere, especially ones as old as the ones in the Bible, that have lasted for so long.”

Jack thought of the stories of his childhood, about God and angels and prophets and the Sabbath Queen.

Evan peered into Jack’s eyes. “What’s wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just a story for the kids.”

“No,” Jack said. “It’s not just a story. Who’s this Dr. Jackson? I don’t know everyone in archaeology yet.” He started for the transporter.

Evan caught his arm. “Jack, what’s going on? You’re kinda freaking me out here.”

“I don’t think you are nearly as freaked out as I am. I need to talk to someone in archaeology. Dr. Jackson, did you say?” Jack shook Evan’s hand off and kept heading for the transporter.

“Dr. Jackson is back on Earth with SG-1.” Evan trotted to catch up with him. “Jack -”

Jack’s radio crackled to life. Amelia said, “Major Benjamin, Dr. Weir needs you in Control, stat.”

Jack tapped his radio to respond. “Be right there. Everything all right?”

“There’s a message for you,” Amelia said.

“Jack?” Evan asked.

“There’s a message for me in Control.” Jack hit the button for the transporter. Evan followed him inside.

“I’m surprised your team hasn’t been given some stand-down as well.” Jack glanced at Evan.

Evan nodded. “They have been, what with me being one of the last to make it back. You think those women have figured out how to work the gate, want to have words?”

“I doubt McKay would let them anywhere near the gate. He’d accuse them of being liable to break it with their primitive stupidity.”

Evan chuckled. “You know McKay too well, and in so short a time.”

“Six months’ exposure to McKay is like a lifetime of exposure to anyone else. Him and Sheppard both.”

They both emerged in Control and headed up to the comms console. Elizabeth, Sheppard, Teyla, and - surprisingly - McKay were waiting beside Chuck and Amelia.

“Ma’am?” Jack asked.

Elizabeth’s expression was unreadable.

“Something you want to tell us, Major?” she asked.

“You already know I’m queer,” Jack said slowly.

Elizabeth said, “Patch us through, Amelia.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Amelia’s hands danced over the console, and then she said, “Speak your message. Major Benjamin is present.”

“This is Agatha Nob, former chief of astrophysics in Gath. I have with me Captain David Shepherd of the Gilboan Army, who wishes to speak to Major Jonathan Benjamin, Crown Prince of Gilboa.”

“My brother’s name is David,” Sheppard said, his expression as unreadable as Elizabeth’s.

“You have a brother?” McKay asked.

Elizabeth cast him a _not now_ look. “Crown Prince of Gilboa, Major Benjamin?”

Evan cast Jack a wide-eyed look. “You said - you said my taking you with me wouldn’t cause any political incidents besides the obvious!”

Crown Prince. Two words Jack had been sure he’d never hear again, not appended to his name. He drew some of his old, familiar hauteur around him, straightened his spine. “King Silas once told me that I cannot be what God made me, not if I meant to take his place. So I stopped intending to take his place.”

“Prince Jack,” said Agatha, “Captain Shepherd wishes to speak to you.”

“How do I know it’s really David Shepherd?” It was easy, too easy, to shrug on the mantle of authority, of power, of command beyond military rank.

The connection was weak, fuzzy, crackling, like a long-distance phone call over a bad connection, but Jack recognized the voice that spoke his name.

“Jack.”

“Prove you’re David Shepherd.”

“When I arrived at the palace in Shiloh,” David said, “you were an hour late for giving me a tour. And you said - you said the picture of the king hung in your room when you were a child, and it kept you up all night.”

Jack remembered those first few moments, hung over from yet another club and a healing head wound and walking into the palace and seeing, for the first time, someone real, the only other person in his world besides Joseph and Michelle who was vivid and alive and not some puppet tugged to and fro by the strings of court and politics and power.

He remembered that, even though he’d loved Joseph, David had been beautiful.

Jack cleared his throat. “Captain Shepherd.”

“Did you mean it?” David asked.

“Mean what?”

“When you rescued me from the firing squad. You said the poison was gone, that it was your time to rule, and you wanted to rule right. That you would try to do right by my example.”

Jack remembered that moment, with David in his arms.

A living death, Thomasina had said Silas wanted for his son, bricked into a wall, with a woman who loved him who he couldn’t stand, till he produced an heir, an heir Silas would raise right. Lie back and think of someone who’s dead, she’d said.

For all that Thomasina had been the king’s right hand, his swift sword, his merciless tool, she hadn’t known all. When Jack had still been able to dream, he’d dreamed of someone still living.

“Because your father is poison. He killed them all, Jack. Reverend Samuels and all of the preachers, just because they were kind to me, helped me when I ran to Gath. I thought he was chosen by God, but -”

“He was, for a time.”

“So come back, Jack. It’s your turn. Your people need you. Your family needs you.”

Jack shook his head, remembered David couldn’t see him. “No, I’m not who they need. They need you.”

“But I’m not the Crown Prince.”

“You don’t have to be. You love my sister. She’ll make a great queen.”

“The throne is yours. The crown is yours.”

“It was never mine,” Jack said softly. “My father wasn’t the only one who saw that crown of butterflies.”

“It meant -”

“It meant the obvious, which my father saw and which I saw, but you were too naive, then. Too innocent. Too good-hearted.”

“Jack -”

“You once told me that good kings are not always good men, and good men do not always make good kings. You were wrong. You’re a good man, and you’ll make a good king. I’ve never been a good man, and I’d be a terrible king.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes, you can.”

“The entire Army respects you. You’re a good soldier.”

“The first thing my father did was purge the Army of any men loyal to me.” Jack remembered the icy cement of the parade ground beneath his bare feet, the rifle reports over and over again as his men died at their comrades’ hands. “Whatever’s left will be loyal to you. You’re David Shepherd, the boy who defeated a Goliath.”

Evan sucked in a sharp breath.

“Think about it, please,” David said. “I’ll be in Gath for the next three days. Dr. Nob will be able to reach me for you.”

“You’re better off without me. They all are.”

“You promised you were my friend.”

Jack closed his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

And the connection crackled into silence.

Amelia shut down the gate.

Jack opened his eyes. “How did he reach Atlantis? Neither Gilboa nor Gath has any space flight capability sufficient for them to reach the space gate.”

“Dr. Nob - Agatha - said she tracked Major Lorne’s jumper’s entry to the planet and Colonel Sheppard’s exit, as well as the activation of the gate, and she figured out how to dial the gate from the planet’s surface and send a transmission through. She said she set a computer dialing random combinations and got lucky, managed to reach one of our allies, who gave her our gate address,” Elizabeth said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Crown Prince, Major Benjamin? You left that out when we debriefed you.”

“That explains a lot,” Sheppard muttered.

“My father’s flinging me into the dungeon to suffer a living death with Lucinda Wolfson was evidence enough, I think, that he’d rather disinherited me.”

“So when you said your sister was wed to the king’s favored son -” Elizabeth began.

“King Silas knew what I know, that David Shepherd would make a far better king than me. And David is in love with my sister. They were as good as wed, before I was - cut off from polite society.”

Jack had forgotten the chasm that his title split between him and everyone around him as soon as the awareness descended: they were in the presence of the son of the king. Even going out clubbing, trying to be anonymous, he’d never been able to breach that chasm, because there was security and Thomasina and recognition, despite people’s best efforts at treating him ‘normal’. Here, on Atlantis, Jack had discovered true anonymity, being one of the crowd, being unremarkable but for his fair face and his skill as a soldier. Jack had been normal.

But now he could see the way the people around him closed their posture, watched him warily. He felt the distance in a sudden rush of cold, like someone pulling back abruptly from a warm embrace. Two words, _crown prince_ , and he was alone in the dungeon once more.

“Well, Major Benjamin?” Elizabeth asked. “Are you going home after all?”

Jack studied her for a long time. She looked wary, betrayed, and disappointed. Teyla’s expression was sympathetic. McKay’s expression was incredulous. Sheppard looked betrayed and disappointed as well, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders tense.

Evan’s eyes were wide with realization and understanding and something else Jack didn’t dare look into too closely.

“If I go help David,” Jack said, “can I come back?”

“Why would you want to come back?” McKay asked, incredulous. “You could go be king.”

“Because I don’t want to be king, and that place isn’t my home anymore.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. Jack knew the hitch of her chest. She’d already made up her mind.

“Permission to accompany Major Benjamin, ma’am,” Evan said.

“What?” Sheppard’s eyes went wide.

“As Dr. McKay pointed out the first time we discussed Major Benjamin’s home planet, Gilboa and its surrounding nations are technologically advanced beyond anything else we’ve seen in the Pegasus galaxy absent some kind of protective technology. Their people are oblivious to the Wraith threat, and they continue to thrive and advance. If Major Benjamin is able to stabilize the political unrest in the Gilboa region, it would be advantageous to Atlantis to advance our cause during the establishment of a new regime so we can identify, study, and possibly replicate that protective technology,” Evan said.

McKay looked thoughtful. “Lorne has a good point.”

Sheppard’s eyes narrowed. “Did you rehearse that?”

“No, sir,” Evan said, blue eyes wide and earnest.

“I’ll need to think on it,” Elizabeth said. “Everyone is dismissed. Except you, Major Benjamin. Let’s have a talk. An honest one, this time.”

Jack inclined his head deferentially. “Yes, ma’am.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any,   
> You were what I wanted  
> I gave what I gave  
> I'm not sorry I met you  
> I'm not sorry it's over  
> I'm not sorry there's nothing to say"
> 
> Jack returns to his home planet and comes face-to-face with David.

Elizabeth gave Jack AR-7, Evan, and Dr. Maxwell as his scientist to help with locating and understanding the technology that had protected Jack’s home planet from the Wraith for so long that they’d been wiped from the inhabitants’ memory.

Jack stood in the gate room, he and his team outfitted not just with tac vests and weapons but also packs, because they were expecting to stay on the planet for an extended period. Jack was going to meet with David and find out what his plans were, what his angle was, and if he had to stay long-term, he would. If the cause was worth it, Atlantis would dedicate additional resources to Jack’s planet.

Evan was piloting the jumper that would take them to Gath, to meet with Agatha and David. He lowered it into the gate room and opened the back ramp so everyone could board, and then the wormhole established in a brilliant blue rush. Jack pretended he didn’t notice how his men were keeping a wary distance from him, more than the usual distance accorded by the chain of command.

None of them knew that Jack had Maxwell’s Bible tucked into his pack. Perhaps it would prove useful.

“Please fasten your seatbelts and ensure your tray tables are in the upright and locked position,” Evan said, and the tension in the jumper eased as the soldiers chuckled.

Jack was still disturbed by how similar Earth and his own planet were, in the small details, like airplanes and the spiels the stewardesses always gave at the beginning of flights.

“Major Lorne, you’re cleared,” Chuck said, and the jumper shot forward.

Jack had been through a space gate multiple times, but he would never not be amazed by the fact that he was traveling in space. The vastness, the emptiness, it was all almost too much to comprehend. And then they were sailing around the planet, sliding into orbit while Evan opened up a comm channel for Agatha.

“Dr. Nob, this is Major Evan Lorne of the Atlantis Expedition. Send coordinates for rendezvous.”

There was a pause, then static, and that woman’s voice. “Hello, Major Lorne. Calculating coordinates - oh, give me that ruler, David. Your mathematical skills pain me. What did they teach in schools in Gilboa?”

Maxwell raised his eyebrows at Jack.

Jack said, “David wasn’t originally an officer. King Silas promoted him after he rescued some Gilboan soldiers from behind enemy lines and destroyed a Goliath tank in the process. He didn’t go through officer training like the rest of us.”

Maxwell’s eyes went wide at the mention of the _Goliath tank_. Jack had assumed, perhaps wrongly, that the gossip mill on Atlantis had run rampant in the forty-eight hours it had taken for him to decide whether or not he would go help David, that everyone knew he was a crown prince back on his own planet, and that good chunks of his life had played out in uncanny parallel to Earth-based mythology. Not so.

Before Maxwell or anyone else could comment, Agatha reported the coordinates, and Evan programmed them into the jumper’s autopilot with a brief tap at the keys.

Jack was used to the inertial dampeners, how it never felt like he was moving at all as the jumper shot into the atmosphere, shields up to protect it from the burn of entry, but he also thought it was amazing, the technology the Ancients had, and how simply having the Gene allowed him to access it. He wasn’t nearly as good a pilot as Evan or Sheppard, whose primary jobs before Atlantis had been to fly aircraft.

He was distracting himself from the impending confrontation - meeting - reunion - with David.

David Shepherd.

Apparently Colonel Sheppard had an older brother, also named David Sheppard. It’s a small world, after all, Evan had murmured, but that time there had been no light-hearted response from the others.

Jack had made precisely two forays into Gath in his capacity as a soldier. The first time resulted in him and his entire unit being captured, most of them being slaughtered. The second time he and David had been sent on what amounted to a suicide mission, to eliminate an insurgent. Now he was crossing the border into the heart of Gilboa’s enemy nation to help topple Gilboa’s king and steal his crown, give it to someone outside of the Benjamin bloodline.

The coordinates Agatha had given them were for a meadow on the outskirts of one of Gath’s smaller cities, high up in the mountains where Agatha was stationed at a rundown observatory. She’d made wild claims about some artefacts uncovered during routine excavations for military fortifications along one stretch of the Gath-Gilboa border. Her claims, while wild, were accurate - the artefacts uncovered weren’t religious icons, the long-lost Ark of the Covenant, but the dialing system for the gate.

Before she had been banished from polite academic circles, she’d learned enough about the artefact to be able to recreate the important components - the signal that connected it to the gate, and the dialing coordinates. Unlike for the initial gate on Earth, someone had actually left behind an instruction manual.

Jack remembered how something of Gath had looked different from Gilboa, the shadows between the trees, the color of the dirt and the grass, the grey of the house he and David had held Belial in while they questioned him. The tall, swaying grass on the mountaintop meadow reminded Jack of some of the fields of Gilboa (not home, not anymore).

The meadow looked abandoned. Evan had cloaked the jumper right after they broke atmosphere, and he landed it carefully, opened the back hatch. He tucked the cloak remote into his pocket and rose up.

“Major Benjamin, it’s your show.”

As casual as his words were, there was a formality in his tone, in his expression that Jack hated. He and Evan were friends, or as close to it as Jack had ever had, without rank between them. And now it was back, the unassailable wall, the impassable chasm of rank and station.

Jack shouldered his rifle, stepped out of the jumper and signalled for the men to fan out around the jumper, do a standard sweep. He was halfway to the tree line when a woman said,

“That’s genuinely uncanny. You seem like you came out of nowhere.”

Jack spun, and there she was, Dr. Agatha Nob, former chief astrophysicist of Gath. She was tall and thin, with thick gray hair trailing over her shoulder in a fraying braid. She had a long dark face, high cheekbones, and wore dusty khakis, a long-sleeved shirt, and an army surplus jacket.

“Dr. Nob?”

“Please, Agatha.” She’d risen up from behind a stand of bushes, had a pistol in one hand, but she offered the other for a handshake.

“Major Benjamin.” He accepted her hand, shook it briefly.

She looked him up and down. This was a scrutiny he had not missed but that, once upon a time, he’d been used to. “You really are much more handsome in person,” she said. Not flattery or flirtation, just a fact. “You going to introduce me to your troop?”

Jack signaled for the others to approach, made a round of introductions. Agatha looked pleased to see some scientists among them. Maxwell showed her his long braid, winked at her.

“Where’s Captain Shepherd?” Jack asked.

“Back this way. And we call him David, these days,” Agatha said.

That gave Jack pause. “We?”

Agatha led them into the trees and up toward the observatory. “You didn’t think he was planning on taking on King Silas all by himself, did you?”

“He took on a Goliath all by himself,” Jack asked.

“That story isn’t as it seems. David will tell you himself. He’s quite free with the tale.” Agatha glanced over her shoulder. “Did you believe it too, Highness?”

“Please, Major Benjamin. I am not the Crown Prince of Gilboa, and when this is done, I won’t be its king.”

Agatha arched one finely-drawn brow. “Are you sure about that?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder at Evan, who was watching their six, rifle at the ready, gaze alert, expression professionally blank and tense. “I am.”

David and his followers - what were they calling themselves; the Rebellion? The Resistance? - were camped out in Agatha’s house, which was right next to the observatory. Though she was in social disgrace, she was by no means poor. A house her size was a sign of her former status, the culmination of her years of hard work and success. While Michelle might have scorned the house as being too large for one old woman to rattle around in, Jack knew the house was the perfect hiding place for political dissidents from a foreign nation.

Agatha led them in through a side door, ostensibly the garage. The town where the observatory was located was still asleep; they’d timed their arrival so it was in the early dawn, light enough to navigate on foot but where no one would notice their coming. Agatha was, by all accounts, known for her early morning constitutionals, so no one who saw her wandering the streets would have thought twice of her, had they seen her.

Jack had led his men carefully, making sure to stay behind cover as much as possible, leap-frogging through the streets to her house.

After so many missions to primitive planets, Jack had forgotten what the splendor of wealth could bring. He admired the marble floors, the ornate wood paneling on the walls. He saw Raberba nod approvingly at the grand piano - a Broadwood Grand - in the corner of the drawing room just off the foyer. Agatha had lovely paintings on display - Jack heard Evan murmur appreciatively - and her kitchen was large, spacious, well-appointed. Either she had a talented domestic staff or she was a fine cook herself. King Silas would have been green with envy.

“Wait here,” Agatha said. “I’ll let the others know it’s safe to come out.” She stepped out through a side door, her footfalls soft.

Jack nodded at Yuy, and the men spread out, guarding the two entrances to the kitchen.

“So,” Jack said to Evan, “with this kind of set-up, what could you cook?”

Evan blinked, startled by Jack’s casual line of conversation, but he rallied quickly. “This set-up? Anything you gave me ingredients for.”

“Tiramisu, sir?” Yuy asked.

“In forty minutes, tops.” Evan nodded.

Jack rapped his knuckles on the countertop. “This is genuine Gilboan granite, right out of the sides of Mount Gilboa. It’s the same granite used -”

“Used in the royal family’s private kitchens of the palace at Shiloh.”

Jack’s breath hitched in his chest. David stood in the doorway. He should have looked shabby in his dusty army fatigues, but he held himself tall, and the sunlight gleamed in his hair, and Jack had forgotten just how beautiful he was.

“The baffled king composing Hallelujah,” Maxwell murmured, so low only Jack heard him.

“Jack,” David said.

“David.”

There was a moment, when they just looked at each other, that same electric moment that had sparked between them the first time they saw each other, before Jack deliberately ruined it - as he ruined all moments between himself and attractive men when people were watching.

And then David was across the kitchen and pulling Jack into an embrace, so tight Jack could barely breathe, and Jack clasped him just as tightly, waiting for the sensation, the relief, the coming home.

It never came.

Like that, Jack knew. He wasn’t sorry he’d met David. David was who he’d wanted for a long time, even as he’d loved Joseph. Whatever chance they might have had for something together, Jack and David, it was over, and Jack wasn’t sorry about that either.

When he pulled back and straightened up, he saw, over David’s shoulder, Evan. Evan’s expression was carefully blank.

“So good to see you, friend,” David said.

“I promised we were friends. I’m here to help.” Jack clapped David on the shoulder. “Captain David Shepherd, these are my men, Captain Yuy, Sergeant Barton, Sergeant Chang, Dr. Raberba, and my friends Major Lorne, Dr. Maxwell. Gentlemen, this is Captain David Shepherd, who slew Goliath.”

David huffed, shaking Yuy’s hand. “When you say it like that, you sound like Reverend Samuels.” He looked Barton up and down. “Wow. This is - you’re really from another planet?”

“Another galaxy, if you want to get technical,” Maxwell said.

David took a deep breath. “That’s a lot to wrap my head around.”

“Was for me at first, too.” Maxwell’s sunny grin always set people at ease.

David shook hands with all of the others. It was a wonder he’d survived as long as he had at court, as sweet and sincere as he was. He kept glancing back at Jack for some kind of reassurance, and Jack waved for him to continue, because the people from Atlantis were just that - people.

“Come on,” David said. “I’ll take you to meet the others.” He navigated the hallways of Agatha’s house with an ease born of familiarity.

Jack wondered how long he’d been here, how much time he spent trapped inside this house. David had never been one to sit idly by and watch the world pass without him, let events take their course. Of course David’s merry band of rebels was staying in the basement. The basement wasn’t just a cement bunker, though - it was large, with multiple bedrooms, a covered pool table in a corner that was serving as the war room, and several large couches, armchairs, and an L-shaped sectional. Enough to accommodate about fifteen people, all of whom were huddled around a map spread out on the floor.

Jack saw the moment all of them recognized him, the wariness and hatred and even disgust in their eyes. David must have seen it too, because he said,

“I promised I’d bring help.”

“David, are you insane? He’s Silas’s son,” one of the men snapped. He had dark hair and brown eyes, but there was something familiar to the line of his cheekbones.

“Asa, he’s on our side.” David shot Jack an apologetic look. Asa was one of David’s brothers.

“Not like I’m here to win any popularity contests,” Jack drawled. It was so easy to fall into old habits in familiar surroundings. The house was strange, the people were strange, but their contempt was the same.

One of the women, older, with grey-blonde hair - David’s mother, Jack realized - sighed wearily. “I’d heard you were dead.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Is that what the old man has been telling people?”

“King Silas was always good at convenient lies,” one of the other men said.

“I must not have been doing my job right. I do so enjoy being an inconvenience.” Jack smiled lazily, was pleased when some of the other men flinched. “David’s not lying, though. We’re here to help.”

“Who’s we?” Jessie Shepherd asked, eyeing Jack’s men.

“They don’t look like aliens,” one of the younger men piped up.

“They’re from another planet, but they’re the same species as us. They’re human,” Jack said.

One girl - dark-skinned, bright-eyed, with tightly-curled hair - said, “It says in The Book, that God made more worlds than this.”

Another man sneered at Jack. “Like _he_ cares about The Book. _Fag._ ”

Jack heard several of his men inhale sharply, but he didn’t flinch, just smiled even more brightly. “Don’t worry, sugar lips, you’re not my type.”

“Is my brother?” Asa demanded.

Jack wasn’t lying when he said, “No.”

David actually looked surprised.

“Can’t have both twins,” Jack drawled, and David ducked his head. “Speaking of twins, how is my sister?”

“Princess Michelle is safe and well,” David said.

“Engaged to Paul Ash, last we heard,” Jessie said, and hurt crossed David’s face for a bare second. He was getting better at schooling his emotions, then.

Good. But it hurt to know he’d had to learn that lesson, and that most of that schooling had been at the Benjamin family’s hands.

Jack introduced his men, and David introduced his men. These were the leaders of The Underground, most of them Gilboans who’d been displaced during the Port Prosperity handover, and the remnants of the unit David and his brother had served in, and a few other random Gilboan citizens who’d opposed the Port Prosperity handover as well. They had multiple cells spread out in Gath and over the border in Gilboa, mostly running guerrilla strikes.

“That’s all you got us?” Abigail Samuels asked. She was Reverend Samuels’s niece. “Seven people, two of them scientists?”

“We’re just the advance team,” Jack said. “If we can come up with a good enough plan, our leader can commit more resources.”

“You’re technologically advanced,” Jessie said. “You can fly in space. You could blast the palace from the sky and be done with it.”

Jack wasn’t going to admit that while Atlantis could do that, mass-scale destruction without a Prometheus-class cruiser was kind of out of the question.

“Seven people have been more than effective in similar situations,” Evan said. “One of our very first advanced teams liberated an entire planet from a technologically-superior opponent, and all they had to their name was a handful of soldiers, an archaeologist, and a single bomb.”

“Ma,” David began, but Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s not about killing the old man,” Jack said, and he saw some of the people flinch at the term _old man_ , saw some of them nod in grim approval. Some people were so petty. “Enough of the Gilboan infrastructure needs to remain in place that a regime change is smooth.”

“We can take down the existing infrastructure whenever we want,” Asa snapped.

Evan shook his head. “You don’t want to do that. You do that, and produce isn’t delivered to supermarkets, people can’t put gas in their cars, the power grids shut off. Nationwide panic.”

“We’ve been tracking members of the King’s cabinet,” Abigail said. “We can -”

Jack shook his head. “You don’t know want to do that either.”

“Why not?” Abigail demanded.

Jessie sighed. “Because none of us know how to run a country. Can we fight, yes, but do we know how to administer the billion-mark institution that is the Unity News Network?”

“What cabinet members are loyal to the old man can be replaced, but those cabinet members are politicians first, and they’ll do what it takes not only to retain power but to serve their country,” Jack said. “And if we make the regime change smooth enough, a lot of them will transfer their loyalty willingly.”

“How so?” Asa sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, expression mulish.

“David can become king legitimately,” Jack said. “If he’s married to the right queen.”

Abigail frowned. “So a Benjamin is still in power.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You hate me, my mother, and my father, I get that, but not my sister. If there’s anyone in the Benjamin family who’s good, it’s her. She’ll let David rule and rule right.”

“What’s in it for you?” Jessie asked.

Evan said, “Our scientists believe there’s technology on this planet that’s been protecting it from the wider threats in the galaxy for the better part of the last ten millennia. We’re interested in finding it and studying it so we can replicate it not just on our planet but on other planets as well.”

“You mean stealing it,” Asa said flatly.

Evan shook his head. “We’d never do that to a populated planet.”

“So if we take over Gilboa, you want free reign to run around our planet? We don’t speak for the entire planet,” Abigail said.

Evan nodded at Agatha. “Given that most of the Ancient tech uncovered so far has been in this region, we’re confident that what we’re looking for will be found here, and if not, we hope to establish diplomatic ties with other nations that might have important technology, through Gilboa.”

“Major Lorne, is it?” Asa eyed him. “You Prince Jack’s CO?”

“Major Benjamin and I hold the same rank, and we both answer to our base commander, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, but I do have program and grade seniority over Major Benjamin, so when Colonel Sheppard is off-world, I am the senior officer in our command,” Evan said. “Major Benjamin and I both command our own gate teams. My team is on stand-down while I’m here, liaising for Atlantis’s senior command.”

“Gate teams?” another girl asked.

Atlantis had communicated pretty extensively with Agatha and David about the nature of the expedition, the Wraith threat in the galaxy, and some of the technology they possessed.

Evan nodded. “Yes. There’s a device - we call it a Stargate - that allows for near-instantaneous travel between distance points in the universe. We have teams, composed of soldiers and scientists, who travel through the gate on our planet to multiple planets around this galaxy to establish trade relations, find resources, and discover new technology so we can better fight the Wraith. So - gate teams.”

Asa flicked his gaze over Jack, expression derisive. “And you trust him to lead a team?”

“Major Benjamin is a capable soldier and a fine officer,” Evan said, his tone mild, but there was a warning glint in his blue eyes. “He comports himself well and is a respected member of our expedition.”

Jack didn’t need anyone fighting his battles for him, thanks. “You forget, my father was a soldier and I was raised a soldier, and whatever you have to say about my father’s politics, he won his war, and I will win mine.”

“Not yours,” Jessie said. “Ours. Unless you’re planning to stay?”

Jack scanned the people arrayed before him and said, “There’s nothing keeping me here. David’s a friend, and I owe him my life, and I owe the Gilboan nation the king it deserves, but after that debt is paid, well, there are bigger problems than the ones on this planet.” He shrugged, smile insouciant. His men looked - unsettled. Right. They didn’t know Prince Jack. Without meaning to, he’d stepped into the role people expected him to play - but it wasn’t one his team had ever expected of him.

Evan stared at him for a long moment. Then he stepped forward, shrugged off his pack and leaned it up against the wall. “So, what can we help with? Maxwell’s pretty handy with improvised munitions. Raberba’s a geologist but he’s got some tricks up his sleeve. Barton can climb just about anything, Yuy can hack just about anything, and Chang can probably kill any one of us with just his bare hands.”

One of David’s former comrades-in-arms beckoned Evan in closer, knelt down and showed him the map they were using to direct their guerrilla operations. Asa crowded closer to Evan, eyeing his tac vest with undisguised envy, and chimed in about troop numbers and planned strikes.

David beckoned Jack into the corner near the pool table, lowered his voice. “Why aren’t you staying? After we win. Even if I’m king, you’ll still be part of the royal family.”

“I’ll always be Michelle’s brother, wherever I am in the universe. But my place isn’t here, not anymore.”

“I need you, Jack. By my side. I can’t do this without you.”

Jack thought of the book tucked into his pack, of its archaic, poetic verses, of David and Jonathan whose hearts and souls were knit together, who loved each other. David had loved Jonathan like a brother. Jonathan had stayed at his father’s side and died. Not everything in the book was true, and not everything in it had to be followed to the letter. There were parts that shouldn’t be true, no matter how much Jack wanted them to be.

“No,” he said softly, “you don’t.”

David gazed at Jack, the way Jack had always wanted David to look at him, and Jack’s throat closed. “Yes, I do.”

“You have me where you need me, for the upcoming battles, for Gilboa, but you won’t need me after, I promise.” Jack smiled, the smile that he’d never given to anyone but Joseph and his sister. “I’m a soldier, but I was never meant to be king. You were never meant to be a soldier, but you were always, always meant to be king. So let’s make you a king.”

David gazed into Jack’s eyes, and it took everything in Jack not to turn away, not to run away. “It’s passed, isn’t it? Our moment. Our chance.”

“You don’t love me,” Jack said.

David opened his mouth to protest.

“Not like you love my sister. We never had a chance. But we do have a chance to win this war.”

David studied Jack for a long, silent moment, then nodded. Sighed, shoulders slumping. “Your friend Major Lorne is right. We can’t afford to just destroy the government wholesale, but I don’t think we can manage a truly bloodless coup.”

“You don’t know how superstitious the old man is. He talked about God when it wasn’t fashionable because as much as he didn’t want to, he believed. And we can make that work to our advantage.” Jack shrugged off his pack, hoisted it onto the pool table and unzipped it. “I have an idea. I read it in this book.”

David skimmed a hand over the cracked leather of the cover. “Is it an advanced military manual?”

Jack flipped open to the Book of Samuel, to the page he’d bookmarked. “Not quite. But listen. _David said futhermore, As the Lord liveth, the Lord shall smite him; or his day shall come to die; or he shall descend into battle, and perish. The Lord forbid that I should stretch forth mine hand against the Lord’s anointed: but, I pray thee, take now the spear that is at his bolster, and the cruse of water, and let us go._ ”

David stared at the book. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Jack said, “that we’re going to break into the palace and steal the old man’s gun out from under his pillow.”

“That’s insane.”

Jack smiled, his old smile, the one that had brought a hundred men after him into battle, and said, “I know.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, family secret brought to light."
> 
> David Shepherd feels like an outsider while planning his own rebellion.

David had never expected to feel like a stranger in the middle of planning his own coup. But he’d made his announcement of his and Jack’s plan - infiltrate Altar Palace, go to the king’s quarters, surround him in his bed and demand his surrender - and then been shunted aside in the shouting that ensued.  
  
Well, David’s people were shouting. Jack’s people were looking quietly contemplative, murmuring to each other beneath the din. The long-haired scientist - Mitchell? Maxwell - and Jack’s 2IC, Captain Yuy, had their heads bowed close over a slim, rectangular gray device. Agatha and Abigail were trying to shout all the others down, but they couldn’t be heard over any of the others.  
  
Jack looked amused. Major Lorne and Dr. Raberba were paging through that old leatherbound manual Jack had referenced in describing his plan, Raberba fascinated, Lorne worried.  
  
“It can be done,” David said.  
  
The others turned to look at him.  
  
“There are secret tunnels in and out of the palace. It was how I escaped. Jack and I both know them,” David continued.   
  
“If we don’t kill Silas,” Asa said, “we’ll never be rid of him. You saw what happened before. He practically rose from the dead!”  
  
Jack’s people paused, raised their eyebrows.  
  
“I didn’t think you had medical tech that was quite so advanced, sir,” said Sergeant Barton. He had red-brown hair and piercing green eyes. His expression was unreadable.   
  
David had forgotten about politics and court, how everyone was so careful and polished. He’d been raised to wear his heart on his sleeve, as had Asa and Abigail and even Agatha. What was passion for him, what was a mission and a calling, was still politics for Jack - and the people he’d brought with him.  
  
Jack’s mouth pulled into a moue of distaste, and David remembered the first time he saw Jack, _really_ saw him, not as a wounded fellow soldier or that familiar-looking stranger lounging in a grey hoodie and expensive jeans in one of the many waiting rooms in the palace, but _Prince_ Jack, in a perfectly-tailored suit, gray-blue eyes so blue, hair perfectly coiffed, his mouth red and full and only hinting at a smile.  
  
Jack, just like Michelle, was beautiful.  
  
“People forget that Silas Benjamin was a soldier before he was a king, and he’s a tough old man. It takes more than a few bullets to put him down,” Jack said.  
  
“Only takes one bullet in the right place,” said Simeon. His family had been displaced from their farm in Port Prosperity. Like David, he’d lost father and brothers and friends in the Unification Wars.  
  
“If we can get into the palace - me and my team plus David,” Jack said, “we can take control of the country from its seat of power.”  
  
“But _how?_ ” Abigail pressed.  
  
David said, “We can make him surrender. Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”  
  
For some reason, that made Jack’s men laugh. Even Lorne cracked a brief smile. He had dimples. He was handsome, in a wholesome way that didn’t even hold a candle to Jack.  
  
Asa crossed his arms over his chest. “What would that offer be?”  
  
David sucked in a breath. “We’d need to talk to Thomasina.”  
  
“To get leverage on the old man?” Jack shook his head. “She’s too loyal. She’s his armour-bearer. She dies with him.” He reached out and tapped the book Lorne and Raberba were holding. “Who we want is Former Chancellor Scolar.”  
  
Lorne said, “Not everything has to be by the book.”  
  
Jack caught David’s gaze, held it, but David wasn’t sure what message he was trying to convey. “I know that. In the book, Jonathan and his brothers die on the slopes of Mount Gilboa, still loyal to their father The King. But enough things in the book are accurate enough that we’d best pay attention to them, hm?”  
  
“Why Chancellor Scolar?” Leah asked. She was the sister of one of the men who’d been killed alongside Eli during that terrible protest over the Port Prosperity handover.  
  
“Mother had him put out to pasture shortly after Gilboa declared war on Gath,” Jack said.  
  
Asa frowned. “Chancellor Scolar was an old man. He retired.”  
  
Jack’s smile was derisive.  
  
Asa’s nostrils flared, and his hands curled into fists.

“He still had plenty of years of service left in him,” Jack said. “No, something happened at that time, something that Mother couldn’t have him killed for but that he had to be put away for. She gave him one of the family ranches and sent his entire family with him. If he dared breathe a word of what he knew, well, she’d have all of them put down.”  
  
Two years ago, David wouldn’t have believed anyone, let alone someone’s mother, was capable of that level of cruelty, of cold calculation. And then he’d met the Benjamins.  
  
He couldn’t decide when his life had stopped being his own, when he’d become an instrument of fate and higher powers. Was it that time at the hospital, when his father had died, when he’d played the piano for King Silas? Was it when he’d fixed Reverend Samuels’s car? Or was it the day he’d crossed enemy lines to rescue a prince who he’d thought was an ordinary soldier? Perhaps it was the night he’d kissed Michelle? Or the time those monarch butterflies had descended on him, a living crown?  
  
“What makes you think Chancellor Scolar will talk to us?” Simeon asked.  
  
Jack smiled. “Again, an offer he can’t refuse. If Silas is out of office, the good chancellor and his family will be safe.”  
  
“I think we should talk to Thomasina,” David said.  
  
Jack shook his head, so David pressed on. “Thomasina knows where Helen lives.”  
  
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Helen?”  
  
David swallowed hard. “Helen Pardis, your father’s mistress. And the mother of his other son.”  
  
Jack’s expression went completely blank.  
  
Simeon and Asa and Abigail and Leah and Agatha all pinned their gazes on Jack, eyes wide.  
  
David lifted his chin, squared his shoulders. “When your father was on pilgrimage, that was where he went. To the house in the countryside where he kept them. He was willing to sacrifice his relationship with them for god, for - something. But he went back to them eventually.”  
  
Realization crossed Jack’s face. “Serenity,” he said.  
  
It was David’s turn to be confused.  
  
Jack could always read him at a glance. “That was Thomasina’s code for when the old man went on pilgrimage.” He reached out, closed the book Lorne and Raberba were holding. “Looks like we need to talk to Thomasina after all. But we should still talk to Chancellor Scolar.”  
  
“How do we find either of them?” Abigail asked.  
  
Jack smiled grimly. “Thomasina will be wherever Silas is. As for the Chancellor, leave that to me.”  
  
Captain Yuy held out his strange device. “Captain Shepherd, if you could get us schematics for the palace and any other building we need to infiltrate, I can program them into this LSD and the LSD on the jumper, so someone can coordinate us over the radios.”  
  
“What’s an LSD?” Agatha sidled closer to peer at the device.  
  
Maxwell’s eyes lit up. “A life signs detector! Tells us how many life signs - and what kind - are present in a given space. All humans here so far. You might have a minor mouse problem near the pantry upstairs, though.” He tilted the device so Agatha could see the screen.  
  
Asa’s stomach growling forced all of them to pause.  
  
“Supper,” Agatha said. “We need supper.”  
  
Sergeant Chang immediately reached for his pack, probably to fish out some kind of prepackaged military rations, but Lorne stayed his hand.  
  
“Agatha has a fine kitchen upstairs. Let’s make good use of it. Jack wanted to know what I could make. What have you got?” He glanced at Agatha.  
  
And once again David was sidelined. Major Lorne took over the kitchen, Jack and Agatha and Leah with him. Major Lorne had to taste-test a bunch of ingredients and ask how they cooked out, but then he set about making a replica of a dish from his home planet ( _home planet_ ; David still hadn’t wrapped his head around that). Captain Yuy sat in the den with Simeon, Asa, Abigail, and some of the others, showing them how the LSD worked.  
  
Raberba sat at the piano, playing a soft tune, and Sergeant Barton stood beside him, idly flipping through the sheet music like he could read it.  
  
Everyone had something to do, and David was at a loss. Finally, he drifted over to the piano.

“You play well,” he said to Raberba.  
  
Raberba’s smile was sweet, sunny. “Thank you. Jack says you play very well. The piano isn’t my first instrument - I play the violin, mostly. Trowa plays the flute.”  
  
David flicked a glance at Sergeant Barton - Trowa - and nodded. “Do you have much time for music? On Atlantis?”  
  
“We’re given one day a week off, a designated Sunday, as it were,” Raberba said. “What’s your word for it? Sabbath. Atlantis has eight-day weeks, so we work seven, rest on the eighth.”  
  
David understood, vaguely, that Atlantis operated as a military base, but it was difficult to imagine how soldiers who were exploring the galaxy and fighting deadly aliens had mundane things like days off.  
  
Raberba switched to a very simple chord progression - C, then A, then C, then A, down to the F, up to the G - and Barton began to hum a melody that ran over top of it. Song and accompaniment, then?  
  
Only Lorne poked his head out of the kitchen, expression severe, and said, “No.”  
  
“Sorry, Major,” Raberba said, and switched to a new song. He glanced up at Barton, eyebrows raised.  
  
Barton’s mouth curved up every so faintly in amusement, and he looked up at David. “Say, why don’t you play for us?”  
  
David nodded and started forward. Raberba rose up and he and Barton moved aside, and David sank onto the piano bench, placed his hands on the keys, and began to play, the simple one-two one-two song his father had taught him, the one that had helped him survive what was nearly a suicide mission to recover the Charter of Gilboa.  
  
The chatter in the den immediately stopped.  
  
David lifted his head, startled.  
  
Asa was looking right at him. “Father taught you to play that.”  
  
David nodded.  
  
Asa stood up, crossed the den, stood beside the piano. He reached out, brushed his fingertips over the keys. “He tried to teach me to play. Tried to teach all of us. You were the only one who ever listened, ever practiced, was ever any good.” He looked at David, really looked at him, for quite possibly the first time since he’d joined The Underground. “Will you teach me?”  
  
David nodded and scooted aside, showed Asa where the starting notes were.  
  
It was only when Agatha summoned them all to the kitchen to serve themselves food that David remembered that Michelle played the cello, and Jack - Jack also played the violin.  
  
While the others were crowded around the baking dish, tasting and exclaiming over Lorne’s exceptional culinary skills, David asked Jack,  
  
“Why didn’t you ever play your instrument for me?”  
  
Jack said, “After Michelle almost died, I never played for anyone.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Author's choice, author's choice, insurrection."
> 
> Phase One of the bloodless coup is under way.

For all of the King and Queen’s paranoia about their safety, about their stranglehold on their power and the throne, they’d never had nearly enough caution about virtual intelligence. The Internet. Tapping phone lines. Silas Benjamin was a warrior, a soldier. He was what Maxwell called _old-school_.

“You’re serious,” Asa said.

Jack nodded.

“You’re just going to break into the queen’s email account.” Asa looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be amused or incredulous.

“That’s right.”

“So do it.” Asa crossed his arms over his chest, expression settling on expectantly sour.

“Just a moment longer.” Captain Yuy was sitting at Simeon’s laptop, hands flying across the keyboard.

Given that Simeon was still officially a citizen of Gilboa and wasn’t on any government watch lists - unlike Leah and Asa and Jessie - his laptop was the best place to start from. He’d been careful not to use it once he crossed the border into Gath; the Underground transmitted messages via carrier pigeons.

“The code you use is elegant,” Yuy murmured. He was seated at the head of the kitchen table, and everyone was crowded around him. Jack, crammed between Evan and David, found their collective heat stifling, but he wanted to see.

Simeon had been a computer programmer. He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just code.”

“We have nothing like it on Earth.” Yuy narrowed his eyes. “It does remind me, however, of some Ancient coding systems I’ve seen.”

Simeon looked affronted. “Gilboa runs on state-of-the-art -”

“He’s referring to a race of technologically-advanced aliens,” Raberba said gently, and Simeon looked pleased.

“Why is Yuy doing this and not Simeon?” Agatha asked.

“Because Simeon was a good man and never learned how to do the type of thing Yuy does for fun,” Jack drawled.

“Are you saying I’m not a good man, sir?” Yuy arched an eyebrow but didn’t look away from the scene.

Jack could feel the warmth of David pressed in beside him. If he tipped his head just so, he could inhale David’s scent. He hadn’t realized how well he knew it, and how much he’d missed it, and how it was already part of his past.

“I’m saying you’re a good hacker,” Jack said.

“That I am, and you are - in.” Yuy sat back, cracked his knuckles. Several people winced, but Maxwell clapped him on the shoulder.

“Captain,” Evan said, “let Major Benjamin do the honors.”

Yuy blinked. “Oh. Right. Sorry, sir.”

“It’s been a long day for everyone.” Jack smiled at him, the reassuring smile that told hordes of gossip-hungry Gilboans that their crown prince was a brave soldier, perfectly straight, and maybe longing for true love.

Yuy didn’t look at all reassured, but he ceded the seat at the head of the table with the same deference he’d always granted Jack.

Asa continued to wear a sour expression. “You really think Queen Rose doesn’t change her passwords on a regular basis?”

“You ever seen my mother send a text message?” Jack asked. Yuy had done something to convince a Gilboan ISP that Simeon’s computer was logging in from somewhere in the city of Shiloh, that Simeon had legitimate access to the royal household’s server, and that it was perfectly normal for Simeon’s laptop to be accessing the queen’s email. Queen Rose wasn’t particularly well-known for her warmth and sentimentality, but she used her own mother’s birthday as her password for everything.

“Surely she deletes her important emails,” Leah said.

Jack opened a folder labeled _social events_ and scrolled through its subfolders, ignoring the restless muttering and shifting behind him.

It was Evan who said, “That one. Barn-raising.”

Jessie huffed. “Queen Rose has never seen a barn-raising in her life.”

“You forget,” Jack said, “that she wasn’t born a queen, and she spent a lot of time on her uncle’s sheep farm growing up.” He hovered the mouse pointer over the folder. “Why this one?”

“You said your mother gave the old chancellor one of the family ranches.” Evan shrugged. “And it’s how I’d hide my plans for something important. In something innocuous. It’s the equivalent of hiding a flash drive of vital intel in a tampon box.”

“Never worked on me,” Raberba said. “But then I have twenty-nine sisters.”

Jack twisted to stare up at him. “You - _twenty-nine?_ ”

“That explains the pink shirts when you’re not in uniform,” Chang drawled.

Yuy eyed Evan. “That explains why I can never find your baking recipes, isn’t it?”

Evan smiled serenely.

Jack clicked on the folder, and - success. Queen Rose had been monitoring the comings and goings on what had once been her uncle’s sheep ranch. Someone, someone not even Thomasina (who was loyal to Silas first, the family second) had been screening all phone traffic, internet traffic, financial patterns, supply patterns. How much food, how much water, how much wine, how much toilet paper. Queen Rose would know, in an instant, if Scolar tried to flee, tried to even plan to flee.

Jessie sighed. “I’m getting a headache just looking at all that.”

“Fascinating,” Evan murmured, right next to Jack’s ear, and he jumped.

Simeon said, “I’m a computer programmer and looking at that makes _me_ bored.”

“It’s perfect,” Evan said. “The former chancellor’s entire life, mapped out. Food deliveries. Media deliveries. Shipments of feed and farming supplies, fuel for the farm equipment. We know every move his entire family and staff makes.”

David nodded. “So we can find our window in and out, without being noticed.”

Yuy said, “If you let me have at it, I can follow the email chain back to the person who’s been sending the data to your mother. If she has a visual on the property, we need to know.”

Jack nodded. “Yes. Let me know what you find. Till then, we should all rest. We have long days ahead of us.”

“We don’t take orders from you,” Asa snapped.

“Jack’s right,” David said. “We should sleep. Captain Yuy knows what he’s doing. His work won’t go any faster with all of us hovering over him.”

Asa eyed David, then Jack, then spun on his heel and headed for the stairs down to the basement, his mother and Leah on his heels.

Simeon pulled up a chair beside Yuy, leaning in and watching, asking questions quietly.

Everyone slept in the basement so that if Abigail had visitors it looked like she lived alone. (Evan had had a stern talk with his men about making sure to leave the toilet seat down, because that was a surefire sign of a man in the house. Jack had caught more than one of David’s men doubling back to the bathroom, sheepish.) Most of the rooms had already been divvied up, so Jack wasn’t surprised when he got down the basement and all the doors to the bedrooms were shut and Evan and the rest of the Lantean contingent were laying out their bedrolls.

Jack fetched his pack from the corner and knelt beside them to do the same, but one of the bedroom doors opened, and David stepped out, shirtless in pajamas.

He frowned. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. We can share.”

“Not like I’ve never roughed it before.” Jack shook out his bedroll pointedly. “Soldier more than prince these days, remember?” More than one of his men in his original unit had offered to let him share their bedrolls, and not all of them had made the offer out of concern for his physical comfort.

Evan said, “We need to be well-rested for this mission. If you can sleep on a bed -”

“I’m fine,” Jack said firmly. He was on this mission as a Lantean, and he would stay with his team. He even tasked Sergeant Barton to lay out Yuy’s bedroll, so that when he was finished he could come crash without disturbing the rest of the team.

It was well-known that Raberba was a shameless cuddler in his sleep, and the one person who was guaranteed not to reflexively lash out in his sleep when someone touched him was Barton (apparently traveling with a circus had stripped him of a lot of personal space boundaries), so Raberba bedded down beside him. Evan, in true Evan fashion, took the spot closest to the door at the bottom of the stairs, the main defensive position. Jack, not about to let Evan take the brunt of an attack from upstairs, calmly displaced Chang’s bedroll and bedded down beside him.

Chang didn’t protest the change, simply arranged himself near Barton and Yuy’s bedroll and went straight to sleep. It was some kind of gift, Barton said. Chang could fall asleep anytime, anywhere he wanted, and also wake up whenever he wanted. Chang claimed it was a result of his mindfulness and steady meditation habits. Maxwell said it was genetic. Chang closed his eyes and was unconscious.

Maxwell tended to sleep sitting up, so he arranged his bedroll in the corner and slumped into it, yawning.

Jack turned off the light before sliding into his own sleeping bag.

Evan said, softly it was barely more than a whisper, “You could spend the night with David, if you wanted. None of us would judge you, or begrudge you.”

“It’s not like that with us,” Jack said.

“Really?”

Jack bit back a reflexive protest at Evan’s blatant skepticism. “Maybe it could have been, once upon a time, but - he belongs to my sister, and she to him.”

Evan didn’t reply for so long that Jack was convinced he’d fallen asleep, but then Evan said, “So, David and Goliath?”

“Yes. The Goliath-class tanks were decimating our troops along the border.”

“And David -?”

“Crossed enemy lines to rescue me and another captured soldier. He didn’t know who I was. He helped us get back to Gilboa, and he fended off a Goliath tank on his own, to cover our escape. Made him a national hero.”

“That makes you Prince Jonathan, then?”

People used Jack’s full name so rarely. He didn’t like the way it tripped off of Evan’s tongue. “Yes.”

“So in the story, when David and Jonathan love each other -”

“The book isn’t all that true to real life. After all, I have no brothers and only one sister.”

“But when you were asking me if it was true -”

“I wondered. If there was some way Earth could have heard about us, written about us.”

“You’re using the book, though. To make plans.”

“I am.”

“In the book, Jonathan dies.”

“That’s not part of my plan.”

“What is your plan? After David becomes king.”

“To return home.”

“You _are_ home.”

“Only in the sense that Earth is your home. Atlantis is my home now.”

“Is it?”

Jack closed his eyes and tried to imagine a life without movie night, without the gate, without the radio that kept him in touch with the pulse of the city, without people calling him _Major B_ and reminding him of standing invitations. Without friends. Without Evan. “Yes, it is.”

Evan exhaled slowly. “Good night, Major.”

“And to you, Major.”

*

Raberba studied the surveillance photos Yuy had managed to dig up, of the people who regularly supplied the ranch where Scolar and his family were essentially being kept prisoner. It was a very fine, expansive prison, but a prison nonetheless.

“I can do it, good enough to fool facial recognition software, if not the human eye. Humans are much better at processing faces than computers,” Raberba said.

Jack nodded. “All right. What supplies do you need?”

Raberba consulted with Chang, and together they made up a list, and Leah was dispatched to have some people in her cell acquire everything on it.

Raberba and Chang made everyone in the house line up, and together they compared faces to the surveillance photos. Jack and David had to be the ones to go, Jack to prove how serious the coup was, and David to hear the intel. Asa, Abigail, and Evan were the ones who bore closest resemblance to some of Scolar’s regular staff - stablehand, groundskeeper, and shepherd respectively.

“Luckily for us,” David said, examining the photographs, “none of them are people with whom Scolar himself has much personal contact, so he won’t notice the switch, not at first.”

Jack nodded. There was so much work to do - actual recon on the house, acquiring staff uniforms, making sure they caught Scolar alone. They had to time their infiltration to match a day when Scolar’s wife and daughters were in town and when the stablehand, groundskeeper, and shepherd were at the ranch. When he and Evan ventured back to the jumper to report in to Atlantis - they had to check in every twelve hours with a progress update - they had a solid plan.

Or rather, they had their next step, and they were proceeding apace with accomplishing it.

Evan, Barton, and Asa analyzed the data Yuy had found to map out the comings and goings of the family and staff to find the perfect window of infiltration.

Jack, David, Jessie, and Agatha lingered in the kitchen, ostensibly brewing tea for everyone but speaking in low tones about what information Scolar could possibly have.

“He was put out to pasture right when Gilboa declared war on Gath,” Jack said. “Whatever he did that displeased Mother or was otherwise dangerous to the crown has to be related to the declaration of war.” He glanced at Agatha and Jessie. “What do you remember about it? Were there any rumors that were being bandied about on either side of the border?”

Agatha shook her head. “No. Not that I heard.”

Jessie pressed her lips into a thin line. “My husband died, the day they declared war.”

Jack winced.

But David was nodding. “Yes. I remember. We were in the hospital, and I - I met the King that day.”

Jessie looked at him sharply. “You - what?”

“I was playing the piano in the chapel, and he came in, and he asked me to play for him,” David said.

Jack eyed him. “Did you meet Chancellor Scolar that day?”

“I don’t remember. I don’t think so. I mean, I only ever saw him on TV, and briefly at that. I didn’t recognize your father at first, either. No ever thinks they’ll see the King in person, not like that.” David shrugged helplessly.

Jessie eyed Jack. “Why was Silas at the hospital?”

“For Michelle,” Jack said. “She was dying. A rare disease.”

“One your half-brother has,” David said softly.

A half-brother. A bastard. But still one of Silas’s sons. Thomasina said Silas had wanted another heir from Jack and Lucinda, one he’d take and raise right. And yet he’d been raising another heir all along. It would have been easy to legitimize the boy, divorce Queen Rose, put her and her children aside - broken son, fragile daughter.

But how the King loved his daughter.

Jack clenched his jaw, pushed the bitterness aside. “That’s good information to have.”

“Maybe what Chancellor Scolar did had to do with your sister,” Agatha suggested.

Jessie’s eyes lit. “Maybe he found out about your half-brother?”

Jack shook his head. “No. Because if he found out, then Mother would have found out, and - no. She’d never have let that stand. Mother had Katrina Ghent killed to end my engagement to her. The mistress and child would be dead if Mother knew about them.”

“You were engaged to Katrina Ghent?” Jessie’s eyebrows nearly flew off her face.

Agatha’s brow furrowed. “She died in Austeria, on a narrow winding pass -”

“She was in Austeria to pick out her own engagement ring,” Jack said.

David pressed his lips into a thin line. “Your own mother did that? You knew? And you -”

“Did nothing,” Jack said flatly.

Jessie took a deep breath, opened her mouth. Closed it. Shook her head and left the kitchen.

Agatha deftly maneuvered the boiling kettle onto a tray laden with teacups, sugar, cream, and tea sachets, and she bustled out of the room, leaving David and Jack in silence, David unable to look at Jack and Jack staring at him fixedly.

“You know how I said we weren’t enemies and you said enemies you understood, but you didn’t know what I am?” David asked finally.

Jack nodded.

“I don’t know what you are either.” David lifted his head, searched Jack’s gaze. “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?”

“You remember what you did for me,” Jack said quietly. “You changed the color of your blood, painted your conscience for me. I am here to settle a debt.”

“And nothing more?”

“And to say goodbye.”

“We are friends, aren’t we?” David asked quietly.

Jack nodded. “And I believe you will be the best king Gilboa will ever have.”

“Do you love Gilboa?”

Jack didn’t love it like his father did, and he’d left it behind willingly enough, but - no. He hadn’t left Gilboa behind. He’d left its people behind. But he still loved its forests and trees, its skies and stars, its land. “I do. That’s why I fought for it and bled for it, and why I’m here fighting for it again. Because it needs you. And it needs my sister.”

David sighed, shook his head. “She’s engaged to Paul Ash.”

“She’s in love with you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. If she’s engaged to Paul, it’s to protect you.”

When David’s brow furrowed in confusion and he opened his mouth to protest, Jack said, “You forget that Michelle is also a Benjamin, and she will go to great lengths to protect what she loves.”

David contemplated that quietly for a moment. Then he asked, “What is it you love about Atlantis?”

Before Jack had to answer, Evan stepped into the kitchen. He paused, sensing the heaviness in the room, but David beckoned for him.

“What’s up, Major?”

“We’ve found our infiltration window.”

David smiled grimly. “Good. Then let’s do this.”

*

Jack hovered just behind Raberba’s shoulder, watching him work. “Does this skill have anything to do with your having twenty-nine sisters?”

“When I was a child, my sisters did like to put on plays, but - no, not really.” Raberba was using a paintbrush and some sticky substance to paint Evan’s face and add on very light prosthetics so he would resemble one of the shepherds enough to fool the facial recognition software installed on the surveillance system. Yuy was going to glitch the system long enough for them to make their entry and then scramble to put the system on a loop, but they couldn’t afford to have Simeon’s laptop logged into the system for very long lest someone notice and investigate. “I took theater classes at university, for fun. I was never much of a thespian, but I have steady hands and acquitted myself well as one of the crew.”

Evan kept his eyes closed and held obediently still.

Chang was working on Asa with the same intensity and focus with which he wrote his mission reports and cleaned his weapons. He and Raberba had stage makeup and surveillance photos spread out between them.

“Chang, where did _you_ learn how to do...this?”

“I performed with a local opera when I was at university,” Chang said distractedly. To Asa he said, “Tilt your head up. Good. Now hold still.”

“For the record,” Yuy said, watching closely, “this was not one of the things they covered in Captain School. It wasn’t even on the course list.”

“They didn’t cover infiltration?” David raised his eyebrows.

“He’s kidding,” Jack said. “Of course they learned infiltration in Officer Candidate School. It’s a long-running joke. Whenever we have to do something - odd, like rely on Chang and Raberba’s theater skills, we say it’s a class we skipped in Major School - or Captain School, for Yuy.” He eyed Yuy. “You got any random skills that will come in handy one day when we least expect it?”

“No,” Yuy said.

“He dances,” Barton said.

Yuy muttered, “Traitor.”

David looked intrigued. “As in - ballet? Or -”

“Ballroom. My uncles insisted I be prepared to blend in with high society.” A blush was creeping up Yuy’s neck.

Agatha and Leah brought bowls of stew.

“Well,” said Agatha, “we’re glad you have these skills that we sorely need.”

Raberba’s sweet smile earned him a smile in return. “I’m sure, had you needed them, some of your own people are possessed of these skills. After all, Leah found us the supplies quite quickly. Only someone with appropriate knowledge would have been able to find them so fast.”

The plan was simple: get the appropriate parties disguised (David and Jack wouldn’t have any makeup or prosthetics but would, at a glance, pass for a couple of the ranch hands), fly the jumper to a wooded grove near the edge of the property, and then hike in under cover of night. Wait till dawn when Scolar’s wife and daughters went into town. Have a second team standing by to temporarily the staff members they were impersonating. And then have the all-important conversation.

“I never went to officer candidate school,” David said, “and this plan sounds insane.”

Evan clapped him on the shoulder. “This is one of our less-crazy plans.”

David cast a glance at Jack. “Has Atlantis made you insane?”

“We were already insane before we got there,” Maxwell said blithely. “Atlantis is just the place where we all fit in.”

*

Evan, David, Asa, Abigail, Evan, and Jack would be going into the farmhouse directly. Yuy, Barton, Chang, Maxwell, Raberba, Leah, and Jessie were the second team, who would be temporarily kidnapping the ranch staff for the day. Evan piloted the jumper, and David got to sit in the copilot seat so he could enjoy the view.

Jack watched the countryside speed past below. He’d never had quite this view either, not in a chopper or in the royal family’s private plane.

Evan checked in with Atlantis while they flew. That was the benefit of a space-gate. They could dial the gate from anywhere on the planet and send a subspace signal through. No one on the planet had any good way of tracking or listening in on a subspace signal, and the only person who knew how to track a jumper was Agatha.

Leah peeked up over David’s shoulder, eyes wide and mouth open as she took in the view.

“Atlantis, this is Alpha Romeo Three Niner,” Evan said.

Asa watched the flight control displays. He was definitely weirded out by the way they just obeyed Evan’s mental commands and seemed to hover in midair.

“Alpha Romeo Three Niner, this is Atlantis Actual.” Elizabeth’s voice flooded the jumper. “Sit rep?”

“Phase One is a go, ma’am,” Evan said. “We’re on our way to visit Former Chancellor Scolar now.”

“How is Major Benjamin?”

“He’s right here if you’d like to speak to him,” Evan said.

David, Asa, Jessie, Abigail, and Leah all turned to look at Jack. He flashed them one of his automatic press-trained smiles, _everything is fine, nothing to see here_ , and cleared his throat.

“Dr. Weir, this is Major Benjamin.”

“You doing all right, Major?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything’s five-by-five.” Jack kept his tone light and confident. Asa, Abigail, Leah, and Jessie looked skeptical at Elizabeth asking after his welfare.

“Being home isn’t making you too nostalgic, is it?” Elizabeth asked. “I’m not going to have to assign a new leader for AR-7?”

“No, ma’am. You won’t be rid of me so easily.”

Elizabeth started to ask another question, and then there was a shuffle and a thump and McKay said,

“Have you found any sign of the Wraith-shielding technology?”

There was a muffled _Rodney_ from Elizabeth in the background, but before Jack or Evan could answer, another voice piped up.

“Hey, Major B!”

It was Aristo.

McKay’s voice went muffled. _Who let the children loose?_

“Hi, Aristo,” Jack said, gentling his voice, the way Evan and Maxwell and Raberba did whenever they spoke to the kids.

“I miss you,” Aristo said. “When are you coming back to Atlantis?”

“When my mission is done, buddy,” Jack said. He avoided the others’ gazes.

“Will you bring me a present? Colonel Sheppard says you’re supposed to bring presents.”

There was a sharp _Aristo!_ in the background.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jack said.

“Thank you! Uh oh, I better go. Doctor Rodney’s turning red in the face,” Aristo said.

Elizabeth came back on the line. “Godspeed and good hunting, gentlemen. Atlantis out.”

“Roger that, Dr. Weir. Alpha Romeo Three Niner, over and out,” Evan said, and cut off the connection.

Jessie said, “There are children on Atlantis?”

“Not usually,” Evan said. “But Jack rescued a bunch of them from a planet where they were being mistreated. We’re fostering them till we can rehome them with some friendlier people on another planet.”

“Jack? And children?” Asa raised his eyebrows.

Jack resisted the urge to shrug defensively. “There’s a lot of variety in this job.” He peered through the viewport. “Okay, we’re almost there. If you circle around to the far side of the pond, there’s a space near the trees where we can land the jumper under cover.”

Evan nodded. “All right. Let’s bring her down.”

Leah, who’d been a physics major before her world got turned upside down, was fascinated by the inertial dampeners.

Evan set the jumper down just beside the trees and kept it cloaked. He, Jack, Asa, Abigail, and David gathered up their gear. Barton shifted into the pilot seat, Chang the copilot. They set their watches to mark time, made sure all their radios were working, and then the infiltration team stepped out into the night.

It was still disconcerting, to be able to see the interior of the jumper but not the exterior. It disappeared when the rear hatch closed. Jack fished in his pocket for a compass and moved to take point. Evan, predictably, went to take their six.

Asa grabbed Jack’s shoulder. “Why do you get to lead?”

David put a hand on his brother’s wrist. “Because Jack has been here before and knows where he’s going.”

“But if he betrays us -”

“I’m right behind him,” David said. “I won’t let that happen.”

They were wearing dark uniforms and tac vests. All of the soldiers were fully geared. Given that Asa had once been a soldier in the Gilboan Army, he had a rifle, but Leah, who had little experience with anything beyond a handgun, only had a sidearm and most of the spare ammo. They were going to bunk down in an unused grain silo for the night, change into their ranch staff outfits, and then head into the house proper as soon as Yuy gave the signal.

David and Jack were supposed to sleep, while the others took watch, since the two of them would be handling the trickiest part, Scolar himself. But there was really no sleep to be had, not with how jittery Jack was. He’d been on dozens of missions, both with the Gilboan Army and with AR-7, and it was human, to have a small case of the butterflies beforehand, but this - this was different.

This was him working to overthrow his king, his _father_.

This was insurrection.

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The grain silo smelled of stale grain, something akin to beer, and something else. Something subtle but comforting. Something that meant _home_.

Jack opened his eyes. Evan was sitting beside him, gaze on the silo door, rifle clipped to his tac vest.

“You ready for this?” David asked softly. He was sitting on the other side of Jack.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

*

The crackle of the radio jolted Jack out of his contemplation of his watch. Everyone on Atlantis was issued special chronometers to adjust to the circadian cycles on each planet. Evan’s Earth had twenty-four hours in a day, where Lantea had twenty-eight. Jack’s planet had twenty-six hours, a certainty he’d never questioned. He knew, vaguely, what part of the seasons cycle they were in, but he had no idea what time sunrise was. No light leaked into the silo.

But Yuy said, “Farm Team, you are a go.”

Evan responded first. “Roger that.”

Once again, Jack led the way.

He’d spent enough of his childhood at this farm that he could navigate his way to the farmhouse in the dim light. Because the farm was so rural, Scolar and his family didn’t lock the doors. They paused at the back door that led to the kitchen, and Jack nodded at Evan.

Evan used radio tap code to signal Yuy, who confirmed that the surveillance system would go down in three, two, one -

Jack opened the door and darted in.

Scolar was standing in the kitchen, staring sleepily at the coffee maker. He looked up, startled. “Anita? Did you forget something? Oh - Beth?” He was looking at Leah.

And then he recognized Jack.

David pushed past Jack. “Don’t panic,” he said. “We come here in peace.”

Scolar blinked rapidly. “Prince Jack, they said you were -”’

“Rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated.” Jack flashed him a smile, a brief gleam of teeth, the expression not quite friendly, but one Scolar would be familiar with.

Evan cast him an unsettled look, then smiled. “Sir, they’re watching us, as I’m sure you well know. Act normal. How about some coffee?”

Scolar nodded, fumbled open one of the cupboards. “Did the King - the Queen - send you to -?”

“No,” David said. “We’re not here to kill you. But we want to know why you think the Queen would want you dead?”

Scolar’s hands were shaking as he distributed coffee mugs. David nodded at Leah, and she pasted on a reassuring smile, moved to help pour coffee and start another pot.

Scolar swallowed hard. “I -”

“We promise, the Queen will never know you learned this from us,” David said. “And we promise that we will keep your family safe. When all this is done.”

“When all what is done?” Scolar clutched his mug with both hands, took a fortifying sip of coffee.

“When the bloodless coup is done,” David said.

Scolar looked at Jack. “Coup?”

Jack nodded.

“But you are the crown prince.” Scolar gestured shakily at Jack with his coffee cup.

“I am,” Jack said, “but I was not chosen to be king.”

Scolar eyed David. He’d been out Shiloh and Unity Hall before everything with David played out. “Just because this boy defeated a Goliath -”

“He was chosen,” Jack said, “with a living crown of butterflies.”

Asa sucked in a breath sharply, and Leah’s eyes went wide.

Scolar eyed David. “Is this true?”

Jack said, “I saw it with my own eyes, as did the King. David was sweet enough to think it meant he was called to serve the King, but we know better, don’t we, Chancellor?”

Evan looked confused, because of course he’d never heard Silas tell of the living crown of butterflies that had descended upon him, a sign from god that he was chosen to be the king of Gilboa.

“It’s why the King turned on him,” Jack said. “You saw, how David went from beloved son, sitting at the King’s right hand at Table to traitor to the crown. Now, will you help us enthrone the true king?”

Scolar nodded. “Yes.”

“Then tell us,” David said, “why did the Queen send you here?”

“Because the King broke with greatness, and she said no one could ever know.”

Jack slid back a step, sipped his coffee, let David do the talking. David was so damn earnest, people ate it right up, even people as politically savvy as Scolar.

“When? How?”

“It was when Princess Michelle was dying.” Scolar darted a nervous glance at Jack. “The King was very concerned for her health, spent every waking hour at her bedside, reading to her and praying. Things were tense with Gath, and he was distracted in Council, in private consultation, not listening to advice, and not deciding. Whether or not we should go to war. It was - it was the Queen, who decided. She gave me a letter, said it was from the King, but I knew, and she knew I knew.”

That was huge, that the Queen had made such a decision. But she wouldn’t have done that unless things were particularly dire. Jack knew how close Michelle had been to the brink of death.

He cleared his throat. “There’s more. What happened? He was more than distracted.”

Scolar licked his lips. “He was hearing - music.”

David raised his eyebrows. “What kind of music?”

“Piano music,” Scolar said. “After we received the news that Princess Michelle was miraculously healed, when the Queen gave me my _reward_ for my silence in a time of crisis, we were standing in the hospital, and the King asked if anyone else could hear that, and there was music. Coming from the hospital chapel.”

Evan murmured, “ _I heard there was a secret chord that David played_.”

“That was me,” David said. “I was at the hospital that day, because my father had died. And I was playing a song he’d taught me.”

“But you weren’t playing all day, were you? Or playing outside the Council Chamber,” Scolar said flatly.

“No, but the King, he came to see me, asked me to keep playing for him,” David said.

Jack remembered what he’d read in Maxwell’s Bible. _And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was all, and the evil spirit departed from him._

The evil spirit was the madness. But maybe David’s playing hadn’t driven the spirit madness from the King so much as quieted it, made the King think his madness was no madness at all, because the song David played was the one the King heard in his madness.

If Jack hadn’t seen the crown of butterflies for himself, he’d have thought David’s piano playing where the King could hear was coincidence, but it was no coincidence. And it was useful.

Jack nudged David. “Do you remember what song you were playing that day?”

David nodded. “Yeah. It’s one I’ve played a thousand times.”

Jack smiled. “Make it a thousand and one. We’ve got what we need.” It was all coming together in his head, unfurling like a flower under the sun, every step he’d need to take to unseat the King and give the crown to another. “Thank you, Chancellor Scolar. We will make sure your family is safe. When your staff come in and report that they were detained for questioning by Gath agents, report it to the Queen immediately and demand that your family be taken to safety. We’ll handle it from here.”

“That’s it?” Asa asked.

Jack nodded. “That’s it. Move out.”

*

In the jumper, on the way back to Gath, David asked, “That was really it? All of that for just that tiny piece of information?”

It was Leah’s turn to sit up front with Barton, who was piloting, and enjoy the view.

Jack nodded. “Yes.”

“What do you have planned, exactly?”

Jack smiled. “Your people can get ahold of some recording equipment, right?”

“They got you theater makeup. Why?”

“You need to record that song you were playing for him, the day you met him.”

It took David a moment, but then he understood. “Psychological warfare. Make him think he’s going mad again.”

“He believes in omens and portents,” Jack said. “In some ways it was a strength, but in many ways, it’s a weakness.”

David sat back on the passenger bench, eyed Jack sidelong. “Do you believe in them?”

“Like I said, I saw that crown.”

“But do you _believe?_ ”

“There’s no point in believing something you already know,” Jack said. “Now, we have to decide what to do about Thomasina and Helen Pardis.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, author's choice, Sometimes, bad guys make the best good guys."
> 
> Preparations for the coup continue apace.

“Why is he here again?” Asa asked.

Jack rolled his eyes. “I can hear you.”

“David, he’s - he’s a _bad guy_.”

Maxwell made a sound that was a cross between laughter and a snort and, at a pointed look from Evan, ended in a cough.

Jack glanced at David, who sighed at his brother.

“He’s not a ‘bad guy’,” David said, air quotes apparent. “The world isn’t divided into good guys and bad guys. This isn’t the movies.”

But Jack grinned at Asa and said, “Sometimes, bad guys make the best good guys.”

Evan said, sharply, “Being nice isn’t the same thing as being good. Major Benjamin is a fine soldier and officer, and more importantly, he is the only other person besides Captain Shepherd who’s been where we’re going, and he’s vital to this operation. Unless you have something of tactical importance to add to this mission, Asa Shepherd, you’d best keep your silence.”

Jack blinked. He opened his mouth to protest that he could fight his own battles, thank you very much, but Yuy and Chang and Barton were eyeing Evan warily. Evan beckoned to Jack.

“Get over here, let me paint your face.”

Jack nodded and stepped closer to Evan, submitted to Evan smearing black facepaint on him for camouflage. Jack, like the rest of the Atlantis contingent, was perfectly capable of applying his own face paint, but he knew Evan was nervous about this next part of the coup. So he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, listened for Evan to match his breathing and settle down a measure.

Evan’s thumbs brushed his eyelids, down his nose and across his cheekbones, and his touch was gentle, like a benediction.

Jack opened his eyes, gazed down at Evan. He always forgot Evan was shorter than him, because Evan filled every room he stepped into. Jack had always been the center of attention in every room he entered by virtue of who he was, and he’d had to learn to tamp that down, close it off, go unnoticed. David was rarely the center of attention, but when he had attention, he commanded it like a king, with quiet dignity and strength of character.

He was always, always meant to be king.

Jack wondered who Evan was meant to be.

Going after Thomasina was too big a risk. If they had to encounter her, it would be best to do it once, and once only, on the night they went to the palace to confront the King. The best way to find out about Helen Pardis and her son Seth was to talk to the doctor who’d treated him. He was in prison, having been sentenced for an old hit-and-run he’d committed when he was young, before he’d even become a doctor.

(“He had a petition, on Judgment Day, for mercy. He’d become a doctor and saved many lives to make up for the one he’d taken.”

“And the King convicted him, the man who’d saved his son.”

“Yes.”

“Even though the mother of his child testified on the doctor’s behalf.”

“He wanted to show force instead of mercy.”

“He is a soldier at heart.”

“I am a soldier.”

“Not at heart. At heart, you are a king.”)

Asa, Leah, Jack, David, Evan, Barton, Chang, and Yuy were the infiltration team for Gehennah Prison - the true dungeon, where the King sent the people he wanted to forget about. Both David and Jack had spent time there, in the wake of David’s botched trial.

Once again, they be flew the jumper to a location close to the target. They would be infiltrating under cover of darkness and night. Because this was a much higher-security location, they were taking in a smaller team. The prison was off the grid, had no digital security, relied on manpower and manpower alone, with soldiers the King and his officers trusted implicitly.

“Are we sure that the old man didn’t just kill the doctor?” Leah asked.

Barton guided the jumper through the air calmly, Jack beside him and helping him navigate. David and Evan were in the passenger seats behind the pilots, and everyone else was crammed into the back.

David shook his head. “You didn’t see the look on his face, when Helen was there speaking in the man’s defense. He loves his son, and he would do anything for him. No way would he sacrifice the one man who can keep his son alive.”

“Who’s keeping his son alive right now?” Asa asked.

Jack glanced at David.

“Hopefully Dr. Nayar can tell us who,” David said. “We find Seth’s treating doctors, we find Seth and Helen.”

Jack shouldn’t have been surprised that the King had had a lover apart from his wife. The Queen was formidable, a staunch ally to the King, a dedicated wife, but she was The Queen. Jack knew, better than perhaps anyone else, what it meant, to want a life apart from the spotlight, from the ever-present shadow of the Throne and the Crown. But knowing that the King had another a son, one he loved and sacrificed for, made old wounds in Jack threaten to reopen, to bleed.

A son as sick as David described could not have been raised as a rightful heir, a better heir -

But if Michelle had been born male, she would have been made heir ahead of Jack, no questions asked. Michelle was born to be queen in a way Jack had never been born to be king.

Barton guided the jumper to the ground, still cloaked.

Gilboa, unlike its neighbors, was aware of Lantean technology, knew that The Aliens (so they were called in the official briefing documents Agatha had been able to access before her clearance was revoked) had advanced flight and stealth technology, but Gilboa didn’t have any specimens of that technology to be able to detect and defend against it. Unbeknownst to Jack, a secondary team had been deployed to recover the jumper AR-3 had originally used to land in Gilboa while Sheppard and his team rescued AR-3 and Jack.

No one would even know they’d been there, and no one would think to look for another jumper.

While Jack was dubious about Leah’s combat skills, David seemed to trust her, and Jack knew politics, knew it was important for members of the Underground to feel like this coup was theirs.

It wasn’t though. It was Jack’s. It was Jack’s last gift to Michelle, and Gilboa, and David.

David and Evan took point - David had spent more time there than Jack - and Chang was on their six, leaving Yuy and Barton to watch the jumper.

In an effort not to create a bloodbath, Evan had issued everyone _intar_ weapons set to stun.

What followed felt like a pretty pathetic exercise in infiltration. If these guards were ones the King and his favored generals trusted implicitly, their trust was misplaced. The guards were tired and bored, and it was easy to stun them, capture them, and lock them into a cell without any keys.

Getting in was easy. Getting to the right cell block was easy. Jack passed the cell he’d been thrown into, saw David cast a certain empty cell a significant look. They stunned every single prisoner they saw.

Jack reached through the bars of one cell, scanned for the prisoner - because the place was clearly occupied, television and books and cot and blankets - and nearly had a heart attack when a man with a weather-lined face popped up in front of him.

“Prince Jack,” he said. “They said you were dead.”

It took Jack a moment, but then he recognized the man. “Vesper Abaddon.”

“In the flesh.”

“They’ve been saying you’re dead in Gilboan history textbooks for years,” Jack said. “Why are you so surprised I’m alive?”

“They had an elaborate funeral for you. I watched it. Very touching. Your parents shed tears for you.”

“Who,” Jack asked, “shed tears for you?”

Abaddon chuckled, low and amused.

“Major,” Evan hissed. “We need to move on.”

“Come to claim your throne, young Benjamin?” Abaddon asked. “You know, your father used to come speak to me, ask me for advice, how to make tough decisions. I could serve you just as well.”

Jack opened his mouth to offer a reflexive denial, but - was it true? Had the King sought advice from a man who’d committed genocide of his own people?

“Abaddon, is it?” Evan asked.

He smiled. “You Prince Jack’s boy?”

“I am no one’s _boy_ ,” Evan said flatly. He tugged on Jack’s shoulder. “Come on.”

“What if he’s telling the truth?” Jack asked.

“So what? He’s not the mission.” Evan squeezed Jack’s shoulder briefly. “Are you with me, Major?”

“Yes, Major.” Jack was reminded sharply of the task at hand, of who and what they were, at the sound of his rank. Two soldiers. On a mission.

It was David who reached out, fired his stunner at Abbadon. “He’s an instrument of darkness, telling truths, honest trifles, to win us to our harm.”

Abbadon slumped to the ground, his glasses tumbling askew.

“Now come on,” David said, and there, at the end of the hallway, was the cell door.

Dr. Nayar was a middle-aged, dark-skinned man, with the pinched look of someone neither well-rested nor well-fed. David unlocked the door, and Nayar was on his feet in an instant, panicked.

“Captain Shepherd.” He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, edged away from the door.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” David said. “We just want to talk to you.”

“But you work for the King.” Nayar eyed the other soldiers.

Asa snorted. “No, we don’t.”

“We’re here on behalf of his son,” David said, keeping his tone low and soothing. He shot his brother a warning look.

“Both of his sons,” Jack said, and Nayar’s eyes went wide.

“Doctor,” David said, “who is treating Seth Pardis now that you’re in here?”

Nayar sank down on the edge of his cot. Chang and Evan had moved into position, guarding the door and checking the hallway.

“I don’t know,” Nayar said. “Seth’s condition is very rare, and only a handful of doctors have a hope of treating it, but chances are any one of them alone wouldn’t be enough.”

“Give us those doctors’ names,” David said.

Nayar hesitated.

“We’re not out to hurt the boy either,” Jack said. “We want to protect him and his mother, for the benefit of the country. And the King.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth Nayar thought it was, either.

“Please,” David said, and there it was, the earnest, honest entreaty that Jack would never be able to pull off.

Evan and David were wrong. Jack _was_ one of the bad guys. Sometimes he just had to shake things up, to try to do the right thing.

Nayar searched David’s expression, then turned his gaze on Jack, and whatever he saw on Jack’s face made him shy away.

Asa and Leah cast Jack accusing looks.

David said, “Dr. Nayar, please. I know how hard you worked to preserve Seth’s life.”

“His condition is life-threatening,” Nayar said. “The only way to save him the last time he nearly passed was with radical treatment. It required a transfusion. His father’s blood.”

“My blood,” Jack said, “if necessary.”

David turned to Jack, surprised.

“He’s a child, and he’s innocent in all this,” Jack said. “My sister - she suffered similarly. A weakness in the Benjamin bloodline. If I could have given her my blood and marrow, I would have.”

Nayar nodded cautiously.

“So please,” David said. “Tell us.”

Nayar gave them the names of several doctors he thought had the training and skill to treat Seth mostly on their own, and he also gave them information about the disease, the type of training a group of doctors and nurses would need to treat Seth as a team, and the facilities he would need for good care.

“Right before Silas took back the capital,” David said, “he was with Helen and Seth. He won’t have pushed them away again. He’ll make sure Seth has top-quality care.”

Leah asked some intelligent questions about which known facilities in Gilboa and Austeria would be able to handle Seth’s care, as well as similar facilities - say, a private hospital converted from a veterinarian’s office - that could be of service to Seth’s health, and Nayar answered her after careful consideration.

“There,” Jack said, “everything we need.” He drew his _intar_ pistol.

Nayar’s eyes went wide. “You said -”

“It will only stun you,” David said. “I promise. We stunned everyone else in here. You can tell no one of our presence. Please, Dr. Nayar.”

Jack said, “What about your family?”

Nayar blinked. His gaze was still fixed on the pistol. Jack sighed, showed him the gun had no bullet chambered, that the magazine was empty.

“It won’t do any permanent or long-lasting damage. Just a hangover,” Jack said. “I’ve been shot with one myself, for training purposes. Now, your family. Where are they? Who are they?”

“Why?” Asa asked, not quite quietly enough.

“We can protect them,” Jack said. He wasn’t sure that was true, but he didn’t want Nayar buckling to pressure should Silas discover what they’d done before they dealt the final coup d’etat.

Nayar took a deep breath, and then he told them where his family was most likely hiding, the things to say to earn their trust.

Jack handed his _intar_ to David. “Thank you. And remember, you never saw us, you never heard a thing, you were stunned, just like everyone else.”

Nayar nodded, wide-eyed. Leah urged him to stay on the bed, let them stun him.

“On the count of three,” David said.

Of course, he fired on _one_. He and Asa arranged Nayar on the floor, like he’d fallen after being fired upon from outside of the cell.

“What are we going to do?” Asa asked. “So no one knows it was Nayar we spoke to.”

“Abaddon,” David said. “We’ll unlock his cell and steal his books. Who knows what truth we might find.”

Jack shook his head. “No. The only person in the world who knows he exists besides my father is you. He’ll know you were involved in this break-in if we target Abaddon.”

Leah frowned. “He’s got a point. What now, Captain?”

Evan said, “One of the other prisoners. Silas’s most important prisoners are kept here, right? Any one of them would be a valuable target for one political enemy or another. Toss the cell, take anything that seems useful.”

David nodded. “Okay. We’d better hurry. How long do these stun guns last?”

“Never as long as we’d like,” Chang said.

They locked Nayar’s cell, then headed several doors down, past Abaddon’s cell, to a cell that had a lot of books. Between the seven of them, tossing the cell was a quick job, though they moved as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the unconscious prisoner.

In a fit of nostalgia, Jack grabbed a book - Harlow and Several Dumplings and the Sabbath Queen - and then they hurried back to the jumper.

“How’d it go, sir?” Barton asked.

“Five by five.” Evan gestured to Yuy, who surrendered the pilot seat to him.

Jack and David got to ride in the passenger seats, of course.

“What is it?” David nodded at the book.

Jack turned it so David could see the spine.

“A children’s book?”

“One of Michelle’s favorite,” Jack said. “Father used to read it to her all the time.”

Asa made a soft noise of disbelief.

Jack and David both turned to eye him, David no doubt to defend Michelle’s taste in books, however trivial it was.

“What?” Jack asked.

Asa shrugged. “I just - never imagined a king reading bedtime stories to, well, anyone.”

“You forget, he was also my father,” Jack said quietly.

“Was?” David asked. “He’s still alive.”

“He stopped looking at me as a son a long time ago,” Jack said. “He stopped looking at me as a son as soon as he knew what I was. What I am.”

“How did he find out?” David asked.

Jack shrugged. “Thomasina. Some enterprising political minion trying to curry favor by imparting knowledge illicitly gained, or maybe trying to blackmail my father. Who knows, who cares?”

David lowered his voice, nodded at Evan and Barton. “Do they care?”

Jack shook his head. “About me personally? No. Their military has rules - don’t ask, don’t tell - but no one has ever been unkind to me, because of who I love.”

“Who do you love?” David kept his voice low.

“There was a man, but he’s dead. Took his own life. Couldn’t handle being - who he was. What he was. Gay. My dirty little secret. Either or both.” Another insouciant shrug. Jack very deliberately did not look at Evan.

“I’m sorry,” David said.

Jack shook his head. “Don’t be. I have a good life now. I’m not a good man, but somehow, I have a good life.”

David opened his mouth, probably to offer some kind of platitude about how Jack really was a good man, but then he closed his mouth and turned away, and Jack glanced at Evan.

Evan glanced back at him, smiled briefly, and then resumed focusing on the sky.

Jack wondered how much he would have to do, how much he would have to sacrifice, to become a good man, if that was even possible, and if it were, if he’d ever deserve a good man of his own.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, any, This time will be different."
> 
> Jack and David talk to Helen.

Jack wasn’t sure what to expect of the woman who had seduced the King. The royal family had been surrounded by beautiful people day in, day out, so a pretty face wasn’t enough. After all, the Queen was beautiful. She was intelligent, too. Loyal. Ambitious, in her own way. Exacting. Organized.

Given what Jack knew about royalty in general and the Benjamin family in particular, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Helen looked scared when she saw who was on her doorstep.

“Helen Pardis?” he asked.

“Where’s Thomasina and - and security?” Helen cast a wild look at her surroundings, craned her neck and tried to peer past Jack, but she wasn’t tall enough.

“Thomasina doesn’t know we’re here,” Jack said. “And your security is - sleeping.”

Unconscious, sleeping, same difference. Evan and his team plus Maxwell, Asa, Leah, and Abigail were watching the perimeter and guarding the downed security team. This conversation was for Jack and David and Helen alone.

Helen backpedaled, eyes wide with terror. “You’re dead. He said you were dead. _Everyone_ said you were -”

“Calm down, Helen, it’s all right.” David pushed past Jack, his tone gentle and soothing, and immediately Helen’s panic subsided.

David had that effect on people more often than he realized. He had, since Jack left, become aware of it and learned to use it deliberately.

“David? What are you doing here - with _him?_ ”

“It’s about the King,” David said. “Can we talk? How is Seth?”

“Seth is fine,” Helen said. She took a deep breath, stepped back, let David into the house. Fear crossed her face when Jack stepped over the threshold.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “He’s doing okay even with Dr. Nayar in prison?”

Fire sparked in Helen’s gaze. Of course. The King never tolerated weakness of character. “Yes, he receives the best care -”

“That money can buy? Or does he just get the royal treatment?” Jack studied her. She had lovely dark skin, thick black hair, wide eyes, full red lips, but she was nothing spectacular. He wouldn’t have looked twice at her in a crowd, and whatever his orientation was, he noticed good-looking women. He had a natural eye for beauty.

“I’ll not have you upsetting my son,” Helen snapped. She turned to David. “What is it you want?”

“We’re not here to upset you or your son,” David said, his voice still gentle and soothing.

Helen closed the door, turned to them. “You said this was about Silas.” She kept herself between them and the door. Smart woman.

“It is,” David said. “He is no longer the rightful king.”

Helen crossed her arms over her chest. “He is the King.”

“But no longer the chosen king,” Jack said.

“You think it’s you?” Helen looked him up and down, skepticism in her gaze.

What had Silas told her, about his other family? Or did he simply pretend they didn’t exist, when he had Helen in his arms?

“Not me.” Jack kept his voice low, calm. “David.”

“But he -”

“Was given the Living Crown,” Jack said. He reached into his pocket and drew out a picture, offered it to her.

Helen accepted it, though she didn’t look at it, her gaze wary.

David’s eyes went wide. “Where did you get that?”

It was fake. Evan had stayed up very late one night, drawing the image - David, head tipped back, smiling joyfully as monarch butterflies perched in his golden curls and on his fingertips. Simeon helped him scan it into a computer, and Evan and Yuy together managed to load the thing into some kind of photo manipulation and creation program. Between Evan’s artistic brilliance, Yuy’s computer brilliance, and Simeon buying some glossy photo paper, they had what looked like an old, crumpled surveillance photo of David being blessed with the famous crown of butterflies.

Jack said, calm and cool, “Like I said, my father wasn’t the only one who saw your crown.”

Helen stared down at the photo. “Impossible.”

“It was possible for Silas, and it was possible for David.” Jack caught her gaze, held it. “I am here to help David take what is divinely his.” Even if the photo was a lie, the moment it depicted was true, and David’s divine appointment was also true.

If one believed in the divine.

Jack wasn’t sure he did, if he ever had.

Helen handed the photo back, hands shaking. “Silas would never - he walked away from me and Seth, once, to keep the crown.”

“And he had David and I put on a farce of a trial, and he survived an assassination attempt,” Jack said. “But this time will be different.”

“How?” Helen asked.

“This time,” David said, “we’re working together, Jack and I.”

Helen looked Jack up and down. “Why are you helping him? You’ve no care for divinity and all the care in the world for power.”

So that’s what the King had told his mistress about his oldest son. Jack bit back one of his sharp-edged smiles. Instead he said, “Even for royalty, some things - some people - are more important than the crown or power.”

Helen shook her head. “I don’t believe you. He walked away from us. He imprisoned Seth’s physician.”

“I believe him,” David said, and it was Jack’s turn to be startled, because he knew David’s real sincerity when he heard it, and those words had been uttered without calculation or political force.

Not even David was wholly without politics.

“Jack didn’t die,” David said. “He walked away from the fight for the crown willingly, has been with other people and fighting other wars, and he only returned at my request, to help me do what’s right for Gilboa.”

Helen looked back and forth between them. “What do you want from me?”

“We don’t want to shed the King’s blood,” David said. “If he relinquishes the throne peaceably, we are offering him a life with you, free and clear of - everything.”

“Everything?” Helen asked.

“Everything,” Jack said firmly. “No politics, no government, no military - and no other family but the three of you. Anywhere on the planet. Your son will be cared for.”

Helen glanced over her shoulder, no doubt to where her son was playing.

“How?” she asked.

Jack deployed one of his ruthless royal smiles. It felt wrong on his face, but it was what people were used to these days. “We got to you. You think we can’t get to Dr. Nayar?”

“I need time to think,” Helen said.

“You don’t have a lot,” David cautioned her.

Helen started to nod, but then a piping child’s voice broke in. “Mama, can you help me? My tower keeps falling down.”

Helen’s eyes went wide, and she spun to face him.

Seth Pardis was dark-skinned and dark-haired like his mother, but he had his father’s nose and eyes, would someday have his jaw. Jack, like Michelle, favored his mother.

“Hi, David.” Seth beamed at him and waved.

David waved back. As the youngest of his brothers, he had little experience with small children.

Helen swallowed hard. “Darling, Mama is having a grown-up conversation. You go and keep playing -”

Jack knelt so he was eye-level with Seth. He’d had little experience with children, but time with Aristo - and watching Evan and Maxwell and the others with the rest of the children from Planet Waterfalls - had taught him. “Hey, Seth. You know who I am?”

Seth clung to the doorframe, eyes wide, but he nodded.

“Does your Daddy usually help you build your towers?” Jack asked.

Seth nodded again.

“Would you like it, if Daddy was around all the time, to help you build towers?”

Seth hesitated, looked to his mother, but David chimed in.

“Daddy would be here to work in the garden, and plant flowers for Mama, to play with you and help you with schoolwork.”

Seth’s face lit up, and he nodded, and Helen, she said, “Yes. I’ll help you.”

Jack was tempted to make a comment about how she was helping herself and Seth as well, but David cast him a look, shook his head. And then Seth said to Jack,

“Will you help me with my tower?”

David was already on his radio to Leah, because she and her cell were going to handle the arrangements for Helen and Seth getting to a safe place and having Silas and Dr. Nayar joining them.

“Sure, buddy,” Jack said. He gestured for Helen to precede him into Seth’s bedroom, where Seth was building an admirable version of Altar Palace with his blocks, though one corner had collapsed.

Jack knelt at the edge of the blanket Seth was building on, studied the construction project. “If you want it to stand up right,” he said, “you have to take it all down and start from the bottom. The foundation - the bottom layer of blocks right here - has to be bigger and stronger than the rest of the building. Do you want to push it all down? That’ll be faster.”

Seth cheered and swept aside the upper layers of blocks. Jack helped him pluck the lower layers and set them aside, and then he showed Seth how to expand the foundation.

“The biggest, strongest part is the part underground, the part no one can see,” Jack said. “But it has to be big and strong, to hold everything else. If you make the bottom layer just a bit bigger - put blocks around the outside, like that.”

Seth nodded, brow furrowed in concentration. He placed each block deliberately, counting under his breath.

Then he said, “My Daddy is the king.”

Not for long, but Jack said, “Yes.”

“Does that make me a prince?”

Helen cast Jack a wary look, but he said, without hesitation, “Yes.” He wasn’t going to go into the politics of legitimacy with a child. But he did add, “Being a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be king one day, though.”

Seth said, “You’re Prince Jack.”

“I am.”

“Are you gonna be king?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the butterflies didn’t choose me - they chose someone else.”

“Who did they choose?”

“David.”

Seth nodded. “David’s nice. Now - you build that corner.”

“Okay,” Jack said, gently. He barely noticed when Helen slipped away, to speak to Leah.

David knelt beside them, and Seth smiled at him, and together, the three of them built the new palace.

They had just put the last block in place when Leah said, “Sir, it’s time.”

David glanced back at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re going away?” Seth asked.

“We are, but soon you’ll have your Daddy with you, to play with you whenever you want,” David assured him.

“Will you and Jack come play with me?”

David glanced at Jack. “I don’t know. We’ll both be very busy. But if we can, we will.”

Seth studied David, then Jack, and then he offered his hand to David, solemnly, playing at grown-up. David shook his hand politely. Jack offered his hand as well, but Seth hugged him instead.

Jack hugged him back, careful of his fragile little body.

“How come he gets a hug?” David asked, light and teasing.

Seth pulled back. “Because he’s my big brother.”

Jack gazed down at him, surprised, but then Leah was summoning them more urgently. It was time to go. Leah’s cell was replacing Silas’s security team, who would remain captive till after the coup, so Jack and David could cross the small rural property to the jumper without fear of detection.

“I understand,” David said quietly, “that Atlantis and its mission to free the galaxy from the Wraith is more important than one kingdom on one planet.”

“I’ll always be Gilboan-born,” Jack said. “But I was not made to stay on Gilboan soil.”

“Do you have someone?” David asked. “Someone for whom even royalty would give up a crown.”

“I hope to, one day,” Jack said.

Evan came trotting out of the jumper. “Leah says Helen has agreed to help us. Sounds like all the pieces are falling into place.”

“Falling,” Jack agreed.

Evan clapped him on the shoulder. “Great! We should check in with Atlantis on the way back to Agatha’s. Dr. Weir will be happy with the progress we’ve made.” He turned toward the jumper.

David said, “May I accompany you? I wish to speak to your Dr. Weir.”

“Sure,” Evan said, though he looked puzzled. He glanced at Jack, questioning, but Jack shrugged. He had no idea what David could possibly want to say to Weir.

His conversation with her was finished by the time Leah emerged from Helen’s house to report that her cell was in place. Jack got on the radio, summoned the Lanteans and the rest of the team back from guarding the security staff. When he stepped into the jumper, Elizabeth was just saying,

“It was lovely to speak to you, Captain Shepherd. Thanks for taking care of Major Benjamin for us. He means a lot to us.”

Jack bit back a reflexive protest, because he could take care of himself. Instead, he stepped onto the jumper and took up the copilot seat beside Evan. He wasn’t nearly as good a pilot as any of Evan’s team or even his own team, Maxwell and Raberba included, but every gene-carrier learned how to pilot the jumpers, because one never knew when the city would need to launch an aerial defense - or attack.

“Why don’t you take the wheel?” Evan said.

Jack eyed him. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll take over if darts start chasing us.”

“Fair enough.” As Jack’s gene expression wasn’t nearly as strong as others, linking in mentally was a strange sensation, took a lot more concentration than it did for Evan and the others, but there was something soothing, calming about focusing on the task, coordinating the HUD and the viewport and everything else.

“The hard part is out of the way,” Asa said.

“The hard part,” Jack said, “is yet to come.”

“Finding an infiltration window is going to be very difficult indeed,” Chang agreed.

“You afraid of Thomasina?” David asked quietly.

Jack had never thought to be, before. That had been a mistake. He said, “She is formidable. What makes her dangerous is her loyalty, her unending belief in the King and all she stands for.”

“We all have something we believe in unendingly,” David said. “Or someone.”

Jack glanced at Evan. “Some of us are still searching for that something or someone.”

David glanced at Evan, too, but before he could say something, Evan spoke.

“Yuy, Maxwell, and Chang will be coordinating with Simeon to find our infiltration window. Barton and Raberba will be helping David with the song.”

“Song?” Leah asked.

“Recording the song we’re going to use,” Evan said, “when we infiltrate the King’s quarters.”

Barton said, “Simeon’s cell has rounded up most of the gear we’ll need - condenser mics, a soundboard, the rest.”

“The music will wake up Queen Rose.” Leah’s expression was doubtful.

“We’ve got drugs,” Maxwell said blithely. “And plans.”

David looked alarmed.

Maxwell said, “I didn’t go to Captain School or Major School, but I did graduate from the Maxwell Church Orphanage, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to pull a prank.”

“A prank?” David echoed.

Jack remembered how Maxwell kept explosives in his hair and said, “Trust him. He knows what he’s doing.”

“You trust him,” David said, “so I will too.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt:
> 
> Any, Any,  
> Seven devils all around you  
> Seven devils in your house  
> \- Seven Devils, Florence + the Machine
> 
> King Silas wakes to seven devils all around him.

“Wake up, Father.”

Silas’s eyes fluttered open. He was hearing - music. Piano music. The sound of the Sabbath Queen. The sound of Death.

He sat bolt upright, one hand sliding under his pillow for his pistol. But all he felt was cool silk.

And then he saw, standing over him, his oldest son, Jonathan Benjamin, with six more devils arrayed on either side of him.

The music swelled until Silas’s head was filled with it, and he stared in horror - at Jack, at David Shepherd, at the man he’d seen his son kiss, at the Shepherd boy he’d ordered to his death but who was also the Shepherd boy who had died so peace with Gath could live -

“Looking for this?” Jack held up the pistol Silas always kept under his pillow, and he smiled. This was it, the moment they had planned for, weeks of research, of plotting, of covert missions to speak to shadowed figures in Gilboa’s political tapestry.

This was it, the culmination of their patience, of watching and waiting for night to fall, staring at the shadows on the windowpanes as Jack narrated his parents’ nighttime routine.

“This is like a movie,” Asa had said. “Where the security on a place that should be secure is criminally bad.”

“Not criminally bad,” David had said. “We just have the advantage.”

A huge advantage, the blessing of advanced technology. David, Jack, Evan, Yuy, Barton, Chang, Raberba, Maxwell, Asa, and Abigail had all been crammed into the jumper. Evan, with his careful pilot’s hands, had maneuvered the cloaked jumper right up to the palace, and brought it level with one of the royal bedroom windows. When the King and Queen were finally asleep, Evan lowered the hatch, and Maxwell scampered up to the window. He made quick work of one of the windows and pried it open, dropped in a gas canister, closed it.

They waited again, counting under their breath, and then slipped on gas masks. Yuy opened the window the rest of the way, then opened another.

Maxwell held the jumper steady and Abigail offered them helping hands, and then they were arrayed in the King’s bedchamber, uniformed and anonymous behind their masks.

Jack glanced at David, but David gestured for him, so Jack was the one who stepped forward, reached under Silas’s pillow, and drew out his gun.

Chang was the one who installed the tiny earbud in Silas’s ear. Barton was the one who controlled the remote music playing device with the recording of David’s piano song on it.

Barton started the music on low, pressed play.

Evan checked the LSD, signalled, and one by one, they drew off their masks, and Jack said those first words.

“You’re dead.” Silas pointed at Asa with a shaking hand. “You died in the war. You died in prison. You -”

“I’m alive,” Asa said softly.

“We’re all alive,” Jack said. He had never seen Silas like this before, eyes wide, terrified, entire body wracked with tremors. No wonder Rose had gone to such great lengths to hide his departure from greatness.

Silas cast about wildly. “Do you hear that? That music.”

“You’re the only one who can hear it,” Barton said, which was true.

“Why are you here? What’s going on?”

Silas reached out to shake Rose, but Jack caught his wrist.

“No, let her sleep. You don’t want her to hear what we’re going to say.”

Silas narrowed his eyes. “What are you going to say?”

“Surrender the throne,” David said.

Disbelief and disdain crossed Silas’s face, and David added,

“Surrender peacefully, and you can have the life you always wanted. With Helen and Seth.”

Immediately Silas’s expression turned stony. “What have you done to them?”

“They’re safe,” Jack said, “and have access to the best healthcare available for Seth.” He remembered that moment, in the back of the jolting jeep, dazed and agonized from capture and escape, when his father knelt beside him, smoothing a hand over his face, afraid for him. Loving him.

Silas must have worn the expression he was wearing now in that moment. Jack couldn’t recall seeing it since.

“Dr. Nayar,” David clarified.

And like that, Silas knew. “The raid on the Gehennah Prison. That was you.”

David nodded. Barton cut off the music.

Silas started to rise. “How dare you -”

“We’re in your chambers,” Jack said. “We have your mistress and your favorite child. We raided your most secure prison, we know you hear music when you’re going mad, and we could kill you in your bed, beside your sweetly sleeping wife. But the next dynasty will not begin steeped in blood.”

“You’re a Benjamin,” Silas said. “All you know is blood.”

“King David,” Jack said, “ascends his throne with favor from above.”

“Says who?”

Jack held out a single paper butterfly. Asa held out an identical paper butterfly. So did Chang, Barton, Yuy, and Evan. Silas stared at them, then lifted his gaze and sneered.

Jack collected the orange butterflies and wove them together just as Chang had showed him, formed them into a crown. Placed it on David’s head.

“Everyone is going to know,” Jack said.

“Please,” David said. “Silas. Don’t - force my hand.”

“Not your hand,” Jack said quietly, and cocked his father’s pistol.

Evan sucked in a sharp breath, but it was David who said, “Jack, no.”

“I owe you a debt,” Jack said. He caught his father’s gaze, held it. “A Benjamin always pays.”

“You’d kill your own father?” Silas widened his eyes, and oh, how he was so good at looking innocent.

“Says the man who’d kill his own son - banished one son’s doctor to rot in prison, withdrew air support from the other so he walked into an ambush.”

“Is it true?” David asked. “Did you really -?”

“We needed to end the war,” Silas said. “I did what had to be done. It’s what a king does. Clearly you don’t have the stomach for it, not even now.”

David lifted his chin at Yuy, who nodded, reached into his pocket, drew out his data tablet. Yuy tapped his radio, murmured, and the tablet lit up.

There, on the screen, was little Seth, perched on his mother’s lap.

“Daddy!” Seth leaned in, peered at the camera. Helen soothed him into stillness with her hands, but she also smiled at the camera.

“Silas,” she said. “Seth has missed you very much.”

Silas snatched the tablet from Yuy, stared at it. “Helen, Seth, can you hear me? Are you all right?”

“We are being well taken care of,” Helen said. “Will you be joining us?”

“Please, Daddy?” Seth added.

Jack watched the emotions roil in his father’s gaze, saw him cast a glance at his nightstand where there were two pictures, one of Jack himself, one of Michelle. And he cast a glance at his wife, who was still asleep, still unconscious from the gas (the dose had been calculated for Silas’s larger frame, and she would sleep for hours yet).

“What will it be, Silas?” David asked softly, too low for the tablet - and Seth - to pick up. “Will you surrender peacefully, or will your wife wake to the sound of your death?”

“This isn’t over,” Silas said.

“Yes,” said David, “it is.” He gestured, and when everyone turned, they saw - snow. No, papers raining down. Leaflets. All bearing the image Evan and Yuy had painstakingly recreated from Jack’s memory.

One of the leaflets hit the window, stuck, and Silas stared at the image from his own memory, of the new king wearing the legendary living crown.

“Surrender, Silas Benjamin,” Jack said, “or your life is forfeit.”

A muscle jumped in David’s jaw. Despite his training and his time as a soldier, he still hesitated at killing. He was a good man.

Jack knew he should hesitate. The man before him was his father. He wondered if his father had hesitated before sending him and his men to their deaths.

Asa bowed his head, tapped his radio and his earpiece so he could hear.

“It’s time,” he said.

The door opened. Silas rose to his feet, head lifted proudly - and saw Thomasina, clutching her dressing gown closed over her nightdress. She had a suitcase in one hand and a royal guard stood beside her. But he wasn’t there in his official capacity. No, he was her lover.

And when the door opened wider, men and women from Asa’s cell stood armed and ready, gas masks in place. Most of the palace was asleep, and those who weren’t asleep were subdued.

“Sir,” Thomasina said, her voice wavering.

“You’ll be together,” David said, “and you’ll be cared for.”

“Daddy?” Seth’s voice emitted from the tablet discarded on the bed, tinny and confused.

Silas scooped up the tablet, cradled it like an infant in his arms. “Yes, son. I’m on my way.”

David stepped back, cleared a path for him.

Jack said, “Serenity awaits.”

Silas paused, looked Evan up and down. Evan remained unmoved, expression professionally blank. “I hope it’s worth it, Jack.”

Jack smiled Prince Jack’s smile one last time. “It is.”

Silas handed the tablet back to Yuy, and he stepped into the hallway with his head held high. David, Jack, Asa, and the rest followed along, making sure the King made it all the way to the doors of the palace, where a second jumper was waiting, piloted by Stevens.

Walker, Coughlin, and Reed were all armed with Wraith stunners, and they had Cadman’s team with them for backup. Jack saw yellow flares of light before the jumper even fully closed.

Evan tapped his radio, and the jumper shimmered out of existence, was gone.

Then it was back to the king’s quarters to deal with the queen. David, Asa, Jack, and Evan stayed behind, let the other three ex-fil in the first jumper.

Asa fell asleep next to the window he was supposed to be guarding. Evan was on alert at the door. David, Jack knew, was itching to find Michelle. All in good time.

Jack sat beside the bed and gazed at the queen and waited.

Hours later, just as the sun was beginning to rise, she stirred, reached toward her husband’s side of the bed, found it cold. Her brow furrowed, and she stirred some more.

Jack said, “Wake up, Mother.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "any, any, your daily dose of breakfast angst"
> 
> Princess Michelle's breakfast ritual goes awry in the wake of the coup.

Michelle looked exhausted when she stumbled into the royal family kitchen. She plopped herself down at the table and rested her cheek on her hand, her eyes only half open. The queen would have despaired at her execrable posture. (The queen was busy somewhere else, coming to grips with the fact that she was no longer the queen.) Michelle was so tired she barely noticed that the kitchen wasn’t staffed as it always was. But then the guard at the door wasn’t Gerald - it was Jack, in a black security suit.

The man at the stove making eggs just the way she liked them was Evan.

While the eggs were cooking, Evan brought her a mug of coffee, which she accepted with a flutter of her eyelids and murmured thanks. She sipped at it slowly and was just barely awake enough to realize Evan was a stranger right when he set her plate down in front of her.

“You - you’re not my father.”

“No, ma’am,” Evan said. “Scrambled and fluffy, yes?” He nudged the plate toward her.

“Where is my father?” Michelle’s voice rose sharply with alarm. “Where is the king?”

“The king is in the palace,” Jack said, “but your father is gone.”

Michelle’s eyes went wide. “Jack? Is it really you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Did he tell you I was dead?”

Michelle’s eyes filled with tears. “You - there was a funeral. I cried for you. Mother cried for you. Father -”

“He knew I wasn’t dead,” Jack said.

“But the Gath spies -” Michelle cast a wary look at Evan.

“There were no spies from Gath,” Jack said.

“It’s been over a year since I saw you.” Michelle’s voice caught in her throat.

Over a year.

Six months on Atlantis. A month back in Gilboa and Gath. At least five months rotting in the dungeons, then.

“I’m sorry.” Jack hadn’t realized how much he missed his sister till the moment he saw her, but how could he explain? She’d think he was insane.

“You’ve been alive this whole time.” Michelle lifted her chin. Jack knew that defiant note in her voice. “And you let me think you were dead. You let everyone think you were dead. And now - what, you’ve come back?” Her eyes went wide. “Did you overthrow Father?”

“There’s been a coup,” Jack said.

Michelle clapped a hand over her mouth, shook her head in denial. “You didn’t. Say you didn’t.”

Jack smiled gently. “I didn’t kill our parents. Father surrendered peacefully. Mother’s taking a bit more persuading, but she’ll come around.”

Michelle raised her eyebrows, and Jack hastened to add, “No, I’m not having Mother tortured either.”

Michelle cast about her. “Where is everyone? The staff.”

“Most of them are doing their jobs, as usual. I wanted to speak to you privately.”

Michelle lifted her chin at Evan.

Jack said, “I trust him with my life. Evan, this is my sister Michelle.”

“Princess Michelle.” Evan inclined his head politely.

“Michelle, this is Major Evan Lorne.”

“All the men in your old unit died,” Michelle said.

“You mean Father had them killed.” Just speaking the words brought the scent of gunpowder stinging in Jack’s nostrils, and he had to swallow down the bitter flavor of death and defeat.

Michelle flinched. “So is this it, then? King Jonathan?”

Jack shook his head. “No. Never.”

“Never?” Michelle’s nostrils flared. “Our uncle nearly had me and Mother killed for defying your reign while you were being his thoughtless puppet.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I was ignorant, then. Selfish. I have no desire to be king of Gilboa.”

“If not you, then who is king or queen?”

“I was hoping you’d be queen,” Jack said, “if you married the king.”

Michelle looked puzzled.

The door opened, and David said, “I can’t decide what smells better, the bacon and eggs or the coffee.” He came up short when he saw Michelle.

Her eyes went wide. “David?”

“King David, actually,” Jack said.

Evan set another plate of food down at the head of the table, drew the chair out. “Your Majesty?” He was pretty good at royal manners.

Michelle and David stared at each other. Michelle’s eyes were filling with tears. All the exhaustion written on David’s face faded away.

Somewhere in the distance, a baby started to cry.

Shock flared on David’s face, but Michelle started toward the door. It opened before she reached it, and Lucinda came bustling in, a baby in her arms.

It was Jack’s turn to stare. Impossible. He’d only been gone seven months. Lucinda hadn’t been pregnant. He’d have known. She’d have known. The torture would have stopped.

“Highness,” Lucinda said, “she’s hungry. She wants you.”

Michelle accepted the baby with practiced ease, like she’d done it a thousand times before, and turned away. To feed the baby, Jack realized.

David swallowed hard. “I heard about you and Paul being engaged, but I didn’t know…” He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white. “I hope you’re very happy.”

Michelle said, voice quavering, “She’s yours.” She glanced over her shoulder. “It was why, at the trial, I didn’t come to testify. I had to protect you, and I had to protect her.”

The joy and wonder and terror on David’s face was painful to behold. Evan slid back toward the stove, head down, hands moving silently as he whisked more scrambled eggs in a mixing bowl.

“What’s her name?” David asked.

“Tamara, after my grandmother.” Michelle turned. She had her dressing gown covering the baby’s face for some semblance of modesty, but she stepped toward David. “Would you like to see her?”

David nodded, reached out to her, faltered. “I should let her finish eating. Drinking. Um -”

Michelle tilted the baby so David could see. Jack averted his gaze politely.

“She looks just like me,” David said, awed. “But the news said you’re engaged to Paul Ash.”

“Mother arranged it,” Michelle said. “So Father wouldn’t know. After my illness, I was supposed to be unable to bear children, so Tamara’s a miracle, and Mother wanted me to protect her. _I_ wanted to protect her.”

“What about Paul?” Jack asked. “Is he going the way of Katrina Ghent?”

Michelle and David both cast him horrified looks.

Jack rolled his eyes. “I didn’t actually mean for you to have him killed. Just - disengaged, as it were.”

Evan set another plate of food on the table for Lucinda, who was hunched at one of the corners and trying not to be noticed. Jack wondered if Evan recognized her, from that brief encounter in the dungeons.

Before Jack could pursue that line of thought further, a uniformed maid burst into the kitchen with a flyer in hand.

“Your Highness, have you seen? Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Michelle accepted the flyer with one hand. Her eyebrows shot up, and she turned it for David to see. “Is this real?”

“Yes and no,” Jack said, and the maid screamed. Then she started to swoon.

Evan lunged, caught her, lowered her into one of the kitchen chairs. He tapped his radio, consulted Abigail for her medic training.

“The crown of butterflies is real,” Jack said. “I saw it. Father saw it.”

“When?” Michelle cast David a wary look.

“David’s first week at the palace.”

“Our father knew? All this time?” Michelle’s gaze softened when she looked at David again.

Jack nodded.

“You said yes and no.” David narrowed his eyes at Jack.

Jack shrugged. “The moment really happened - you know it, I know it, Silas knew it. But there were no surveillance photos. You can thank Evan and Yuy.”

Michelle and David both turned to look at Evan, who was waving a bottle of vinegar under the maid’s nose and muttering into his radio for further medical advice, and also who the hell was supervising the house staff?

Belatedly, he noticed everyone staring at him. “Is something wrong with the eggs?”

The maid started to stir. Evan beckoned to Lucinda. “Hey, can you get her a glass of water?”

Lucinda nodded meekly and scrambled to obey.

David waved the flyer at Evan. “You made this? How? I don’t remember you taking my picture.”

“Drew it, from Jack’s description. Yuy digitized it.” Evan shrugged one shoulder. “Are the eggs okay?”

“The eggs are fine,” Michelle said, ever the soul of politeness. “Who _are_ you?”

“Major Evan Lorne, Your Highness, from the Atlantis Expedition.”

“Atlantis?” Michelle echoed.

Jack said, “It’s a long story.”

That long story unfolded over breakfast. Lucinda, the maid (Brenda), Jack, Michelle, and David talked about what had really happened since Silas re-took the throne after the assassination attempt. Michelle reached out, grasped Lucinda’s hand when Jack explained in delicate elisions about his time in the dungeons. She’d been released right after Jack’s escape, and Michelle had taken her on to help with Tamara. Lucinda, like Lorne, had a good head for details and planning and had worked very hard to make sure Tamara had everything she needed in a secret nursery.

Jack told the grander portion of the tale in the solemn tones he’d heard from Perry at court time and time again, and he knew Brenda would spread the tale, about how David had been chosen from above and been aided by warriors beyond the stars, how Gilboa would always be watched over by its star warrior Prince Jack.

Brenda goggled when Evan brought her a plate of food, but Michelle invited her to eat at the table with the royal family, and so she ate quietly, listening and wide-eyed.

Lucinda stayed near Michelle’s side, and Jack knew he needed to apologize to her, for dragging her into his machinations and everything that followed.

Evan stayed in the background, serving food, topping up coffee, and the way he was so perfectly deferential with titles was a little unnerving. Would this distance and deference continue on Atlantis?

Michelle rocked Tamara in her arms. “I can’t believe this. All of this. This is insane. Aliens and space ships and breaking into the palace.” She pinned Jack with an accusing gaze. “This whole time, you were alive, and you didn’t try to contact me, not once.”

“I had no intention of ever returning,” Jack said. “If David hadn’t found me, I’d be doing regular gate missions right now.”

“You’d let me think you were dead?” Michelle’s eyes filled with tears again.

“The world was better off thinking I was dead.”

“I was alone. All I had was Lucinda, and she missed you too. Just the two of us against Father and Mother, trying to protect David’s child.” Michelle shook her head, and she buried her face in Tamara’s blanket.

Lucinda was at her side in an instant, patting her shoulder and soothing her.

Evan tapped Brenda on the shoulder, quietly recommended she finish her breakfast in the servants’ quarters. He gave her a croissant to go with her plate. She nodded and ducked out - but not before taking the flyer with her.

David went to comfort Michelle as well, but she shook her head, and he retreated, uncertain, expression unhappy. Tamara started to cry, and Michelle shushed her, rocking her, but she only cried louder. Lucinda went to take the baby, but David said,

“May I?”

Michelle looked up at him, still sniffling, and nodded, levered Tamara into his arms.

This was a family moment, one Jack didn’t care to intrude on.

He stepped out of the kitchen and into the hallway where Barton, Chang, Yuy, Raberba, and even Maxwell were wearing dark security suits. At his signal, they retreated further down the hall, like they were simply redistributing their positions with the addition of another security team member.

But then Lucinda followed him.

“Jack?”

He didn’t condescend to her with _Lulu_. That had gone to the wayside the first time she’d tried to seduce him in the night and he’d pushed her away and guards had burst in to restrain him, drug him, and leave him with her.

“Lucinda. Thank you for taking care of my sister.”

“She’s been very kind to me.”

Jack took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. For lying to you, for making you part of my family’s machinations, for good or for ill - mostly ill. You deserve better than me.”

“I was pregnant,” Lucinda said.

Jack had the sense that his breakfast was about to make an unpleasant return.

“I found out just after they said you - you’d died. But the baby didn’t make it. I wanted him, Jack, because he was part of you, and -” Lucinda burst into tears.

Jack pulled her into his arms, held her tightly. He remembered his mother’s derisive words after their engagement. _She’s nice. Nice people try hard_. And his own equally derisive response. _You’re taking a cudgel to an infant_. If Lucinda was still nice, it was a miracle, and Jack would protect her niceness gladly.

All his life, he’d wanted his father’s love, his father’s approval, and that meant being the next king, being worthy of the crown. It meant pushing away Joseph and attempting to start a family he could never love. It meant ruining himself and everyone around him. With all that burned away, who was he now?

Jack held her tight, tighter, closed his eyes, but he couldn’t cry.

“Major Benjamin?”

Evan stood in the kitchen doorway.

Major Benjamin of the Atlantis Expedition. That’s who Jack was. He stepped back from Lucinda, smoothed away her tears.

“Be right there, Evan.”

Evan nodded and slipped back into the kitchen.

Jack patted Lucinda on the shoulder. “Come on. The royal family needs you.”

“Us,” she said. “They need us.”

She was wrong, but he would let her find that out on her own.

“By the way,” Lucinda said, “those eggs were really good.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, author's choice, Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show."
> 
> David's first day as king. Rose Benjamin has some words of warning for him.

The first full day of David’s reign was a whirlwind. If David had thought that being in the royal family’s orbit was exhausting before, he was about to experience firsthand what it was really like. Not even Jack had ever fully known what it meant to be king.

He did know what it meant to be a soldier, and even though he set his gun and uniform aside, there was still a war to be fought, the war against the establishment, the war for the minds and hearts of the people. Luckily for David, he’d won most of the latter war the first time he went up against a Goliath.

It took the combined efforts of Raberba, Chang, Evan, and Jack to have David dressed ready to take the throne, the opening salvo in the first war.

The cabinet assembled in the Council Room, most of them clutching fliers and chomping at the bit to demand of Silas what was going on.

It was Jack and Evan who pushed open the doors and Lucinda who said, “The King approaches.”

The entire Cabinet stood, because it was what they did, but some of them faltered when David strode into the room.

“What outrage is this?” Minister Wolfson demanded.

It was Michelle who escorted David to the King’s chair. It was Jack who ushered in Reverend Nathaniel, Reverend Samuels’s successor. The ministers’ faces turned white when they recognized Jack as he led the good Reverend to stand before David. One minister stumbled and collapsed into his chair, shaking, when Lucinda handed Jack the crown and Jack handed it to Nathaniel.

“Stop,” Minister Forsythe said. “This is impossible. Where is the King?”

“Silas is gone,” Nathaniel said, “and a new king is chosen.”

“Chosen by whom?” Wolfson cast his daughter a betrayed look, but she didn’t meet his gaze.

Michelle nodded at the flyer crumpled in his hand. “By the only one whose choice matters.”

“This isn’t a democracy,” Jack said. “This is a monarchy. And David Shepherd is our king.”

Forsythe shook his head. “No. Unacceptable. I refuse to bow to this - this _whelp_.” He stabbed a finger at David. “No one will accept this, and no one will believe this. It’ll be all over Unity News, just you wait, David the betrayer, the kingslayer, Jonathan who killed his own father -”

“If you won’t support our rightful king,” Jack said, “another will easily be found to take your place.”

“How are you not dead?” Echarren stared at Jack, wide-eyed.

Jack didn’t answer. He was alive, for all to see.

“Who?” Forsythe demanded.

“Me.”

Heads turned.

Andrew Cross stepped into the room. He wore an impeccable suit, but he had a box under one arm.

“Thank you for the gift, Cousin,” he said to Jack, hoisting the box.

Jack inclined his head graciously. He’d sent Andrew a fabulous pair of women’s shoes in his size. Silas had had William Cross summarily executed not long after Jack was imprisoned. Michelle, much to Rose’s dismay, wanted to make amends with family, and Andrew was more amenable than his father, if they were willing to be amenable to him. A pair of shoes was a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.

Forsythe spluttered, but a couple of armed guards - soldiers loyal to David, to replace the ones loyal to Silas and Abner’s successor - stepped forward, ready to remove him from the room.

David said, “I don’t want to start my reign as Silas ended it, in terror and fear and anger. I want to rule right. I want to end the war with Gath, and I want Gilboa to achieve the greatness dreamed for it by every person who has lived and died to defend and preserve it. But without your support, this country will tear itself apart. Do not think of me as your king but as your servant, servant to all. If I am willing to serve, so you must also be, and if you are not, you shall be cast out. No harm will come to you or your family, but you will not remain at this table.”

Forsythe stared at him for a long time, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Then he said, “I resign.”

“Thank you for your service,” David said, inclining his head graciously.

Forsythe stepped back from the table, and Andrew took his place.

He smiled pleasantly. “Now, on with the ceremony?”

The anointing of the king was brief, but Jack felt something shift in his bones when he heard David speak the words of the oath, watched Nathaniel place the crown on his head.

Most of the ministers applauded, though some still looked dazed, casting Jack wide-eyed looks. If they thought Jack was a surprise, they weren’t going to handle the next news bomb very well, that they weren’t alone in the universe.

Evan and Raberba, armed with cameras, snapped some photos to record the moment of coronation, but then Lucinda swept in, with flowers and baby Tamara, who was wearing a white dress and a crown of little paper butterflies. The ministers were still dazed and unsettled when Nathaniel called Michelle forward - for the wedding.

Jack was the one who gave Michelle away, and Jessie was on hand to give David away (because Michelle insisted on some equality in the tradition, and that David’s family be present). Jack, wearing a crown of flowers, was Michelle’s man of honor, and Asa was David’s best man.

They exchanged vows and rings, and Nathaniel proclaimed them man and wife (while Evan and Raberba snapped yet more pictures), and then Tamara was declared the royal princess.

Jessie accepted baby Tamara from Lucinda, who stepped forward and reminded everyone that the people were waiting.

“The people?” Echarren echoed faintly.

“To the balcony,” Lucinda said, “so Gilboa can meet her new King.”

Even though Evan and Raberba were on hand to snap photos of David’s first address to the people, there were thousands of cameras and recording phones from the ground below. What was happening was an historic moment, a new king, and thousands were witness to him and his beautiful, young family. Yuy was filming the event for posterity and for Andrew to distribute on the Unity News Network’s website and evening news broadcast for anyone who couldn’t fit in the town square or didn’t have the Internet.

It was Paul Ash who worked alongside Lucinda, keeping everything on schedule: first the coronation, then the wedding, then the announcement, then David’s phone call to Gath to end the war.

Andrew managed to get a couple of reporters from the UNN in to observe and record the moment. David spoke to the Premier of Gath, and plans were put in motion for a formal treaty-signing ceremony, one that wouldn’t be interrupted by assassination attempts.

After that phone call, more phone calls poured in from other nations, seeking to clarify their diplomatic status with the new king. David cast Jack a wide-eyed look right before Lucinda handed him the phone, but then Michelle was handing Tamara to Jessie and Paul was taking notes and Hanson was on hand, with his ubiquitous notebook, offering suggestions - maintain as many political relationships as possible, unless other leaders insisted their relationship was with Silas specifically and not merely the King of Gilboa.

Someone, most likely Evan, made sure there was a steady supply of food from the kitchens, and all of the insanity had died down to a lesser murmur that Paul, Lucinda, and Hanson were left to wrangle while David retreated to the royal residence with his mother, new wife, daughter, and brother-in-law.

Rose was there, sitting on one of the settees, watching the evening news footage of the public address. Abigail and Leah were standing guard over her. She looked up at David.

She said, “Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show.”

“Mother,” Michelle began.

“A new king does not happen easily,” Rose continued.

Jack remembered how she had stolen the crown he had intended to use for his own coronation, her unwavering belief in her husband surviving what should have been a fatal gunshot.

“I am not here easily,” David said.

“It was all too easy - a loving wife, a beautiful daughter, the support of the crown prince magically back from the dead,” Rose said.

“Mother,” Michelle said, more sharply.

“But I have no desire to rule, nor to be queen if you are king. I shall content myself with a new role - grandmother.” Rose stood, crossed the room, planted herself in front of Jessie.

Jessie eyed her warily but surrendered Tamara.

Jack wondered if his mother had ever looked so tenderly at him when he was a baby. All of his memories of his life and his childhood were covered with the shadowed, colorless patina of politics, fear, public opinion, currying favor. He hoped Tamara’s parents did better by her.

“You look good, though.” Rose nodded at the television screen. “You at least look like a king. Who picked your suit?”

“No, Mother, not you, he’s not Father,” Michelle said.

Jack wondered if anyone had told her about Helen and Seth. Would that finally break her faith in Silas? Should someone break that faith?

Jack’s stomach rumbled, and he wondered how to get ahold of Brenda or someone so they could get some more food, and he realized - Evan was gone. All of the Lanteans were gone. When had they gone? Had they left him behind? When had he last seen them?

He patted himself down frantically, found his radio earpiece, tucked it into place, tapped the radio at his hip.

“This is Major Benjamin. I need a twenty on Major Lorne.”

“Copy that, sir,” Yuy said. “He’s in the jumper on the roof, checking in with Dr. Weir.”

Heads had turned when Jack started using radio voice protocol, but he shook his head, smiled apologetically, and ducked out of the room, headed for the roof. The jumper was indeed parked up there, but still cloaked, so Jack could see the lowered ramp and interior but not the exterior. It was uncanny, like looking into an alternate dimension.

Evan was sitting in the pilot seat, hunched over with exhaustion. He’d loosened his tie and set it aside, unbuttoned his collar.

“Thanks for lending me my men,” he said.

“They’re your team.” Elizabeth sounded amused. “We’re watching the videos you sent us. Major Benjamin is dashing indeed. He really is a prince, isn’t he?”

“Brother-in-law to the king now.”

“Will he be coming back to Atlantis?”

“As far as I know he will be.”

“You don’t sound very sure, Major.”

“I’m not, ma’am.”

“Well, we’d hate to lose him. He’s an excellent asset, royal blood or not. And he’s one of us, now.”

“That he is.” Evan straightened up. “Have you given any thought to how you want to proceed with disclosing the stargates to Gilboa and Gath? We have better political traction in Gilboa than in Gath, obviously, but right now Gilboa and Gath are on good political terms. That would be two countries whose ground a long-term team can cover.”

“I’d need to speak to King David and Major Benjamin and your Gath representative some more, I think.” There was a pause, and then Elizabeth said, “You were 2IC on an extended off-world operation, weren’t you?”

“A naquadah mining operation, under Colonel Edwards. Dr. Raberba’s a geologist, though. We would need someone from engineering to help search for the Wraith-shielding tech on this planet.”

“You work well with Dr. Kusanagi, don’t you?”

“For some values of the word ‘well’. The last time my team escorted her offworld we got kidnapped,” Evan said.

“Would Major Benjamin stay on with us, do you think, if we let him stay on his planet? As part of the extended off-world team.”

“I can pitch it to him if you like.”

“Please do, Major. By the way, have you thought up a gift for Aristo? He asks after you and Major Benjamin often.”

“I’ll rustle up something, I promise. Tell him hi from me and Major B.”

“I will. Check-in in another twelve hours, Major.”

“Yes, ma’am. Major Lorne, over and out.”

“Atlantis out.”

Evan sighed and buried his face in his hands for a second.

Jack cleared his throat.

Evan whipped around, was on his feet. “Jack! Hey, you guys ready for dinner? I was about to go rustle up Brenda, roll up my sleeves and dive in. Anything in particular you want? This is your chance for me to learn some traditional Gilboan dishes.”

“I’m pretty hungry myself, but the others can fend for themselves. Thanks to Brenda, the staff adores David at least as much as they adore Michelle. No one in the royal family will go hungry,” Jack assured him gravely.

“None except you, apparently.” Evan smiled. “Let’s go get some food, then. I’ll round up the rest of the team.”

The two of them stepped out of the jumper, and Evan closed it with the remote. They made it to the door, and there was Lucinda.

She smiled brightly at Evan. “Major Lorne - Brenda was looking for you. And Jack - David says he needs you.”

Dammit. Jack wanted to talk to Evan, about going back to Atlantis, but Evan nodded at Lucinda and ducked down the servant stairs, and Lucinda towed Jack back to the royal residence, and Jack wondered if he’d ever get to go down the servant stairs again.

He didn’t see Evan for the rest of the evening.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, Tell me why we never cared to do this when we still had time."
> 
> In which there is music and some hallelujah.

Jack couldn’t sleep. Neither could David and Michelle. Michelle was peppering Raberba with questions about Atlantis, outer space, the expedition, the universe, Earth. David was nursing the same whisky he’d been working on since dinner. Barton and Maxwell were helping Raberba explain everything to Michelle.

Lucinda, Rose, and Jessie had put Tamara to bed hours ago.

Asa, Yuy, Chang, and Evan were somewhere else, coordinating with the Underground’s teams, making sure Forsythe wasn’t causing trouble, that Silas was where he was supposed to be, that what precautions they’d put in place were holding. Evan was apparently coordinating with Agatha back in Gath as well, discussing strategies for disclosing the Stargate program to the Gath government.

“You play the violin?” Michelle said to Raberba. “Jack plays the violin.”

“Really, sir?” Barton twisted around to look at him.

“Not in a long time,” Jack said.

“He and I used to play duets,” Michelle said. “At my parents’ dinner parties. It was so embarrassing. People had to clap for us, even when we weren’t any good. I haven’t played in a long time myself. But I know our instruments are around here somewhere.” She rose up, crossed the living room.

One of her first orders of business as queen was to have the Broadwood grand piano installed in the living room for David. Apparently her cellos and Jack’s violins were still in the instrument cupboard, covered with dust cloths.

Maxwell’s eyes lit up. “You know what you should do? You should play a song together, the three of you.”

“Do any of us know a song in common?” David asked, but he moved toward the piano.

Michelle reached for her old cello case. Raberba retrieved two violins, handed the nicer one to Jack, kept the practice one for himself. The sleek red instrument was smaller in Jack’s hands than he remembered, delicate, and his hands felt clumsy on the strings, but then David was helping the three of them tune.

“You can learn this song really, really fast,” Maxwell said. “Easy chord progression.” He picked out several bass notes on the piano - C, A, C, A, F, G.

Raberba’s eyes went wide. “No, Major Lorne said -”

“Major Lorne’s not here.” Barton grinned. “And I think it’s perfect. You can sing, Maxwell. You and I, while the others play.”

“This is going to sound terrible,” Michelle said, but Raberba hummed the song for her, and the four of them set to work, building an accompaniment for David and Michelle to play, while Jack and Raberba carried the melody and harmony.

“Do you know all the words?” Maxwell asked. “Which verses should we sing?”

“All of them.” Barton’s green eyes twinkled with mischief.

As soon as Jack tested the melody, he recognized the song, the one Maxwell and Evan had sung for him, about David, the baffled king composing hallelujah.

They ran through the song without words a couple of times, to sort out the intro and the final double chorus.

“It’s easy,” David said, “like a hymn.”

“It really is like a hymn,” Maxwell said.

“It’s pretty.” Michelle fiddled with one of her strings. “What’s it called?”

“Hallelujah,” Jack said softly.

“It’s very popular on Earth,” Raberba added.

Michelle smiled up at Jack over the neck of her cello. “Tell me why we never cared to do this when we still had time.”

“Because before today, _we_ didn’t exist.” Jack gestured to her and David and himself and everyone else with his bow.

“Let’s play while we have the chance,” David said.

Maxwell counted them in, and David took up the intro, a simple piano line, before Maxwell began to sing the verse. He really did have a lovely deep voice. Barton’s was a sweeter tenor.

The lovely surprise on David’s face at the sound of his name made something in Jack’s chest fragment and fall apart.

They’d made it through all but the last verse when there were rapid footsteps in the hallway, and the door burst open, and there was Evan, wide-eyed and panting, but he stumbled to a halt, confused, at the glorious sound of strings soaring above piano, mingling with voices.

He cast sharp looks at his fellow Lanteans, but Raberba had his eyes closed, lost in the music. Barton shrugged, smiling helplessly. And Maxwell, he winked.

And then he sang,

_I did my best, it wasn’t much_   
_Couldn’t feel but I tried to touch_   
_I told the truth_   
_I didn’t come to fool you_   
_And even though it all went wrong_   
_I’ll stand before the Lord of Song_   
_With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah_

Jack raised his voice with the others for the chorus, and David and Michelle joined in, and this felt like freedom, like flying. Jack closed his eyes and swayed with the chorus, with the mingled prayer, and when the final note hit the air, a hush fell over the room till it faded.

Jack opened his eyes.

Evan was gone.

Michelle collapsed into David’s arms, giggling delightedly.

Raberba applauded. “That was lovely. You all sound wonderful together.”

Michelle kissed David on the cheek, smiled up at Raberba. “Thank you for teaching us that song. You play beautifully.”

“As does Major B,” Raberba said. “You should play for us more often, sir.”

“Or better yet, play with us,” Barton added.

Jack flashed them a tight smile, set down his violin. “I’d better go handle things with Major Lorne.”

“Why doesn’t Major Lorne like this song?” David asked.

Maxwell said, “Did Major B explain? About the Bible.”

“The black book he reads? That he uses battle strategies from?” David said. “Not really.”

“Well, then let me tell you about a shepherd boy named David who slays a giant named Goliath,” Maxwell said. “Gather round, children. It’s story time.”

Jack ducked out of the room and started down the servant stairs, but halfway down he realized that was wrong. Jack was a soldier, but Evan was an airman. When he sought comfort, he took to the sky. Jack turned and headed back up the stairs to the roof for the second time that day.

Sure enough, Evan was sitting on the edge of the roof, staring up at the night sky. His shoulders tightened minutely when Jack stepped out onto the roof, but otherwise he didn’t respond.

Jack crossed the roof, skirted around what he knew was the jumper, stood beside Evan. “I can name every constellation in the sky, but don’t ask me where any of them are, except for the Compass Star.”

“It never gets old,” Evan said. “Seeing a different set of stars in the sky. Some of the astronomers tried to resurrect the Ancient names for the constellations over Lantea, but there’s been talk of naming new ones. The Warrioress, for Teyla. The Satedan, for Ronon. The Queen, for Elizabeth. The Pilot, for John. Probably The Prince for you, hm?”

“Evan,” Jack said.

Evan glanced up at him briefly. “You all sounded good together. Family always has a special way of harmonizing. Did the song upset David?”

“No,” Jack said, “although Maxwell telling him about the Bible just might.”

Evan said, “ _Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul_.”

Jack wet his lips. “It was never clear which was which - too much _he_ and _him_ and _his_.”

“I suppose, since they loved each other, it didn’t matter.” Evan glanced up at Jack again. “Elizabeth says you can stay here, for an extended offworld mission. You, your team, and Kusanagi. To find the anti-Wraith tech that’s been shielding the planet. It’ll be good for you - you can be near your family. You’re an uncle now. It’s a pretty special thing, being an uncle. Aristo will understand. Can you recommend a present, though? Something unique to Gilboa, to this planet. That’s the point of souvenirs.”

Jack sat down beside him, carefully not touching, carefully not looking at the sheer drop off the side of the palace. “Give it to Toriel’s team. I want to go back to Atlantis.”

Evan studied Jack out of the corner of his eye. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” Jack said fiercely. He caught Evan’s arm. “I want to go back to Atlantis because it’s my home now.”

Evan opened his mouth, and Jack said, “ _You’re_ my home.”

Evan went perfectly still, so still Jack didn’t even think he was breathing. “But you could stay here, with your family. I could be on the second team, and you could see me between patrols -”

Jack caught Evan’s face between his hands. “You’re not listening to me. You’re so used to knowing and understanding everyone and everything around you that you’ve stopped listening. I don’t want to stay here. Here I’m Jonathan Benjamin, Prince of Gilboa, half-shamed soldier, reprobate playboy, almost-usurper, breaker of hearts. On Atlantis, I’m just me, Major Jack Benjamin. I can like movies and knitting and cooking and I can be good at my job and no one will care what I’m wearing or who I’m sleeping with or anything else.”

Evan swallowed hard. “On Atlantis, they care who _I’m_ sleeping with.”

“No one cares about Sheppard and McKay.”

“We aren’t Sheppard and McKay,” Evan said, voice low and tense.

“I’m glad,” Jack said, “because as fine a commander as Sheppard is and as brilliant a scientist as McKay is, neither of them are you, and you’re who I want.”

“You look so happy with them - happier than you’ve ever looked on Atlantis. I want you to be happy.”

“What about your happiness?” Jack asked.

Evan shook his head, looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it?”

Evan didn’t meet Jack’s eyes.

Jack tilted his chin up, searched Evan’s blue, blue gaze. “For once in your life, Evan, be selfish.”

Evan shook his head again, and Jack growled. “Fine. Let me be selfish for the both of us.” And he captured Evan’s mouth in a kiss.

Evan melted against him in total surrender, parted his lips with a needy moan, and Jack darted in to taste him. Evan was better than he’d ever dared to imagine, warm and solid and strong, sweet and yielding.

Jack pressed closer, swung his legs over so he was straddling Evan’s thighs, buried his hands in Evan’s hair and kept kissing him. His temperature climbed, his heart raced, and when he ran out of air he pulled back with a gasp.

“Jack,” Evan whimpered, eyes closed, shuddering, hands fisted in Jack’s shirt like he wasn’t sure if he should pull Jack closer or push him away.

Jack caught Evan’s bottom lip between his teeth, nipped lightly, soothed the wound with gentle suckling. “Evan,” he murmured, “I’ve wanted you for so long. Please - let me -”

Evan opened his eyes. “Let you what?”

“I broke my throne for you,” Jack whispered, nibbled at Evan’s jaw just behind his ear.

Evan’s hips rolled upward.

Jack ground down against him, his nerves jumping with the delicious friction. “I cut my hair for you.”

Evan managed a sardonic raise of an eyebrow, threading his fingers through Jack’s hair.

“I want to tie you to a kitchen chair and have my way with you.” Jack turned his head, caught Evan’s thumb between his lips and swirled his tongue around the warm, blunt digit meaningfully. “What do you say?”

Evan leaned in, closed his mouth over Jack’s and did something wicked with his tongue. He pulled back a fraction, their breath mingling, and said, “Hallelujah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah (but references verses used in other versions of the song as well).


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, last words."

Aristo and the other boys were standing in the gate room when Jack and the rest of his team stepped through.

“Major B!” Aristo flung himself at Jack, and Jack scooped him up in a hug, held him tightly.

“Hey, kiddo.” He was learning all of his terms of endearment from Evan. “How have you been?”

“We’ve been very good,” Aristo assured him. He peered up at Jack with his wide, dark eyes. “I missed you. Did you bring me a present?”

“Actually, yes I did.” Jack reached into one of the pockets of his tac vest and drew out a little box tied with twine. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Aristo did so with steady hands and wide eyes. Jack wondered if he’d ever been given a present before. He pocketed the twine - waste not, want not - and eased the lid off, parted the tissue paper.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice, awed. “It’s so pretty.”

Jack had brought him a gold-plated monarch butterfly, one of the souvenirs from David’s coronation. “It’s just for you.”

“Thank you,” Aristo said, and he hugged Jack again, arms tight around his neck.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Major Benjamin, Major Lorne, welcome back. Please check in with medical, and then I’ll meet you for debriefing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Evan said. Jack set Aristo down, promised to see him after debriefing, and handed his gear off to the quartermaster.

Once everything was settled in Gilboa - David as King, Michelle as Queen, Tamara as Princess, David and Agatha poised to disclose Stargates and The Wraith to their respective countries - Jack and Evan had arranged to come back to Atlantis. Teams had been selected to handle the long-term exploration of Gilboa and Gath and hopefully other nations, but a lengthy debrief was necessary all the same.

Jack was pretty sure no one knew about him and Evan. After that kiss on the roof, they’d been - well, busy more than discreet. In the forty-eight hours after David’s coronation, there had been so much running around and clean-up (ensuring Silas and his family were secure and isolated and unable to make a bid for the throne; ensuring Scolar and his family were safe; ensuring Nayar and his family were safe) that they hadn’t had the chance to do more than smile at each other as they crossed paths in the hallways of Altar Palace.

There was one moment, in an alcove on the servant stairs, when Evan had tugged Jack into the shadows with him, pressed a brief kiss to his mouth, but then people had been radioing for both of them and they’d had to part ways with little more than an affectionate hand-squeeze.

Jack hadn’t had a chance to really talk to Evan about that conversation on the roof, why Evan thought his wants and feelings didn’t matter was compared to Jack’s. What would be the best way to talk him about, well, everything? Without arousing suspicion. Yes, they did a lot of activities together, but always with other people, with this group or that club or team.

The only thing they sort of did together, just the two of them, was cook, but the kitchens were never empty, because there were shifts all around the clock and Marines on duty all around the clock to make sure all of Atlantis was well-fed.

Jack and Evan were separated in the infirmary, getting checked over, poked and prodded and scanned and questioned. Because they’d been off-world for so long, their check-over was much more extensive than after a regular gate mission. Evan got them all permission to shower and change before heading to the conference room for a debrief.

In the conference room, Jack somehow ended up seated across from Evan, with Elizabeth at the head of the table, Sheppard and McKay seated on either side of her, and Teyla beside Sheppard. Evan, Jack, Raberba, and Maxwell were the only ones present for the briefing, as the rest would file their AARs in more detail.

They talked about how the mission went - a whole lot of psychology and political maneuvering, not nearly as much military resources expended as initially considered, given that they could rely on The Underground for backup and supplies like recording equipment and theater makeup. While they discussed the general effect of the mission - Atlantis having alliances with Gilboa as a whole and at least one mildly influential citizen of Gath - Jack studied Evan. He looked tired, a little pale around the edges, but was bright and alert, answered questions appropriately when they were posed to him. 

Elizabeth considered the mission a success, and there was talk of establishing some trade relations with Gilboa as well, given how similar to Earth it was. They needed to have a more serious discussion down the road about trading advanced tech to Gilboa, and also having assistance from Gilboan forces in the event of a Wraith attack.

Where Evan had been typing up portions of his report on a datapad as they went, Jack had to sit down and write his entire AAR, which would take a long time, given the length of the mission, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. When all was said and done, however, Elizabeth was proud of Jack, his team, Evan, and Maxwell for their fine work, for a long mission, and she was giving them a week of stand-down before putting them back into the general mission rotation.

A week. Jack thought of all the things he and Evan could do, just the two of them, with a week of freedom. Maybe a camping trip to the mainland? Surf and sun and the two of them.

Elizabeth dismissed them, and McKay was already pouncing on Maxwell with questions about the gate dialing system Agatha had rigged up so she could call Atlantis - she and David now had their own IDCs and GDOs - so Jack headed for the door, but Elizabeth said,

“Major Benjamin, if I might have a moment?”

“Of course, Dr. Weir.” He paused, let the others pass him by.

Evan raised his eyebrows, but Jack shrugged. He had no idea what Elizabeth wanted.

She waved her hand, and the doors swung shut, and it was just the two of them.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” Jack stood straight and tall, respectful to the woman who was his general, his boss, his queen.

“I want to find out where you really stand, about staying with this expedition versus returning to your home planet.”

Jack considered his words carefully. “As you so rightly pointed out, Gilboa is on my home planet, but Atlantis is my home.”

“As one political leader to another -”

Jack cut her off. “Ma’am, no. Yes, I was born to a king, but I am not a prince. I’m just another officer at your disposal, under Colonel Sheppard’s command.”

“On your planet, in your home country -”

“I will always be Jonathan Benjamin, son of former king Silas Benjamin, but I wield no power there, and I don’t want to.” That wasn’t entirely true. Jack knew the power of his cocky smile, of his name, of his family ties, but he was on Atlantis, and he planned on staying there, and he would never need to wield that power again.

“Don’t expect us to treat you any different,” Elizabeth said finally.

“I don’t want you to. That was why I didn’t tell you in the first place.”

Elizabeth studied him for a long moment. “Fair enough. I’d hate to lose you, Major Benjamin. You really are a fine officer.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Atlantis deserves only my best.” Jack inclined his head politely.

“Dismissed,” Elizabeth said, and Jack reached out, initiated the doors, and strode out.

He went to tap his radio, ask Control for a twenty on Evan, but then he had a thought. He asked for a twenty on Dr. Heightmeyer. There was a pause, and then Amelia informed him that Dr. Heightmeyer was in her office but, according to her calendar, she wasn’t scheduled to see anyone at that moment. Jack knew that Control could only see whether or not Kate was busy on her calendar, not the names of her patients or the location of her sessions, because not every session was in her office.

Jack headed for her office.

When he knocked, the door slid open. Dr. Heightmeyer was sitting at her desk, typing away at her laptop.

“Major Benjamin.” She smiled at him. “What a pleasant surprise. Welcome back to Atlantis. What can I do for you?”

“Do you have a minute, Doc?”

“Of course.” Dr. Heightmeyer closed her laptop and beckoned to him. “Please, have a seat.”

The door hissed shut behind Jack, and he sat opposite her desk, like a colleague coming for a consultation instead of patient and doctor.

“So, what’s going on?”

“Everything I tell you is confidential, right? Unless I disclose that I might harm myself, someone else, or this base.” Jack laced his fingers together primly on his lap.

Dr. Heightmeyer nodded. “That’s it in a nutshell. Something you want to get off your chest?”

“Evan,” Jack said. “It’s about him.”

“Major Lorne?”

Jack nodded.

“What about him?” Dr. Heightmeyer clasped her hands and regarded him with her calm, piercing gaze.

Jack opened his mouth to say something -  _ I kissed him; I think I’m in love with him _ \- and realized he’d literally never had a conversation like this with anyone. Ever. Not even with Michelle. Certainly not with his mother. Not even with Joseph.

Dr. Heightmeyer’s brow furrowed. “Did he do something to hurt you or upset you?”   


“What? No. Stars, no. Evan would never.”

And Dr. Heightmeyer smiled knowingly. “I see. He’s never struck me as the insensitive type.”

Jack resisted the urge to fidget or bite his lip. “I just - I don’t want him to get into trouble. But I - I want -”

“Evan’s a smart man, and a talented officer. He knows what he wants, and he makes it happen.”

_ No, he doesn’t, not always _ , Jack thought, remembering that conversation on the roof. 

“Evan’s a good airman. He’ll always have your back,” Dr. Heightmeyer continued.

Jack finally scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to say -”

“Don’t say it to me,” Dr. Heightmeyer said. “Say it to him.”

So she did know what he was trying to say, and how hard it was for him to say it.

“And if you ever want to talk to me about your fellow officer, I’m here to listen.”

Jack studied her for a long time, but her calm, professionally pleasant demeanor was impenetrable. He never wanted to play poker against her. “Thanks, Doc.”

“You’re welcome, Major.”

“Call me Jack.”

Dr. Heightmeyer inclined her head politely. “Jack.”

He stood, smoothed down his uniform absently. “See you later.”

“And you.”

Jack had just stepped into the hall when his radio chimed.

“Control for Benjamin, what’s your twenty?”

Jack rattled off the level number and corridor letter designation. 

“Report to the following coordinates,” Amelia said, and rattled off the level and corridor location for where Aristo and the boys were staying. 

How soon till they had a new home?

“Roger that.” Jack headed for the nearest transporter. When he arrived at the makeshift children’s dormitory, Evan was standing at the door.

“Hey, Jack. Aristo wants a bedtime story from his two favorite people.” Evan held up a book.

It was the one Jack had retrieved from Gehenna Prison,  _ Harlow and the Several Dumplings and the Sabbath Queen _ .

“Not a tale about Samson or David or Solomon?”

“Maybe next time,” Evan said. He offered the book to Jack, who accepted it, and then they tip-toed into the room.

Most of the boys were still asleep, but Aristo was awake on his bunk, a soft night light glowing beside him.

Jack and Evan crossed the room with stealth worthy of a raid on a Wraith hive ship. Aristo perked up when he saw them. He started to speak, but Evan pressed a finger to his lips, and Aristo nodded. With a series of tugs and scowls, he guided both men to sit on either side of him and snuggle close.

Jack took a deep breath, opened the book to the first page, and began to read.

“ _ She knew she was meant for school, for book things and pencil time, and yet, Harlow found herself veering left, not right, where she knew the schoolhouse still sat _ .”

“School is for learning, right?” Aristo asked in a whisper.

Evan nodded.

“Did you go to school?”

Jack nodded. “That was where we learned how to read.” But Jack knew he’d been able to read before school, listening to the lulling cadences of his father’s voice.

Aristo snuggled into Jack’s side and peered over his arm at the book, the words on one side and the picture of pretty Harlow on the other. In this version of the book, Harlow looked like Michelle had, as a child.

Jack took a deep breath and continued. “ _ And with that confidence, she dropped her books and took her first step into the dark. The Sabbath Queen _ …”

Jack read until Aristo’s head drooped against his shoulder. When he glanced at Evan, Evan was gazing fondly down at Aristo, so Jack read a little further, and finally, when Aristo was completely asleep, Jack closed the book, set it aside, and he and Evan tucked him into his cot.

They exited as stealthily as they’d entered, Jack with the book tuck under one arm. The door hissed shut behind them, leaving them alone in the silent hallway.

Jack gazed at Evan, and Evan gazed back at him.

“Well,” Jack said finally, turning toward the transporter. “Good night.”

Evan tilted his head. “Where are you going?”

“To bed,” Jack said, because even though there were hours yet, Atlantis with its days longer than Gilboa’s, he was tired, and the day was over. He was basically on stand-down for a week. A week was more than enough time to write his report.

Evan stepped closer, raised his eyebrows. “Alone?” He asked it so quietly, too low for anyone but Jack to hear even though there was no one else in the corridor.

Jack swallowed hard. The last time he’d dared to be so brazen, the lights in the city had been out, and he and Joseph had walked hand-in-hand through the shadows back to Joseph’s apartment. As soon as the lights had come back on, Jack had had to leave. In Atlantis, the lights were always on.

Louder, Evan said, “We should compare notes, so you don’t miss anything in your report.”

Jack nodded. “Sure. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Evan stepped around Jack, headed for the transporter, but his shoulder brushed Jack’s, and there was heat in his gaze, heat Jack remembered from that kiss on the roof, and he followed. He was careful, so careful, to maintain just enough physical distance that no one would think they were doing anything more than Evan had said, heading back to Evan’s quarters to discuss their AARs, but he could feel Evan’s warmth.

When they finally made it back to Evan’s quarters, the door hissed shut behind them. The door emitted another beep, and Jack turned to peer at it, wary.

“Extra lock,” Evan said quietly. “Only the strongest natural gene carriers can override it. Sheppard and Beckett, basically.”

Jack swallowed hard. “What now?”

Evan took the book from him, set it on the desk. Then he shrugged off his uniform jacket, draped it over his desk chair, sat down, unlaced his boots, tugged off his socks. “Whatever you want.”

“I want  _ you _ .”

Evan glanced up, smiled, and said, “I’m all yours.”

Jack had grown up expecting to get what he wanted, when he wanted. It was part of being prince, and part of being a Benjamin. He’d tempered some of that when he joined the Army, but what he wanted was to please his father, and that was something he’d never, ever get, no matter how hard he’d tried, how hard he’d worked, how he’d pushed himself further and harder and faster than any of the other cadets.

He’d figured out, early on, that he’d never get what he wanted when it came to boys, to men. He had to be so careful, who was interested, who wouldn’t tell? Even then, did any of them see him beyond  _ Prince  _ or  _ Benjamin? _ Joseph hadn’t, but his view of the world been skewed. He’d tried to imagine  _ Prince _ and  _ Benjamin _ away, and when it had proved impossible, he’d -

But Evan. He’d never known Prince Jonathan Benjamin. He’d only ever known Jack, Major Benjamin. 

Jack remembered Evan’s impeccable manners, the day of David’s coronation, the easy way  _ Your Highness _ and  _ Your Majesty _ rolled off his tongue. Was that who Evan wanted? Did he, too, want a fairy-tale prince? He’d only kissed Jack after Jack kissed him, after Jack acted on that Benjamin-typical, prince-typical urge to take what he wanted.

No. It had been Jack, who was afraid, who’d never dared to make a move. On Atlantis, Jack was free to love and court who he wanted (save among the American military contingent, perhaps); Evan was the one who was more trapped, who had more restrictions. 

It was Evan, who’d made the first real move back on Atlantis.

Evan had been kind to Jack since the beginning. He was the one who’d agreed to rescue Jack. He’d guided Jack on Atlantis, showed him how Earth culture worked - and he’d showed Jack  _ himself _ , sharing his cooking and art and his humor, his time and his affection. 

“Hey, Jack.”

Jack blinked. Evan was standing right in front of him, gazing up at him.

“You’re overthinking this.”

“But we -”

“Are Jack and Evan. Here, in this room, that’s all we are.”

Jack bit his lip. “Before, you said your happiness didn’t matter. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, not as much as your happiness does,” Evan said quietly. “Whatever will make you happy, I’ll give it to you.”

Could Jack handle being in Joseph’s place, the secret lover? What if he asked Evan to come out?

No. If he did that, he’d lose Evan forever. Evan would be sent back to Earth, discharged from the Air Force.

“You’re still overthinking things.” Evan reached up, curled a hand around the nape of Jack’s neck, stroking the soft hair there. “Just you and me, Jack. Whatever you want.” Then his gaze darkened, and he pulled back. “Unless - unless it’s not me you want?”

“Maybe I overthink things,” Jack said, catching Evan’s wrist and tugging him close once more. “You, however, undervalue yourself at every turn. I’m starting to think you have a bit of a complex.”

Evan ducked his head, blushing. “Maybe I do.”

“I don’t see why,” Jack said. “You’re handsome, talented, brave, strong. Kind.”

Evan peered up at him through his lashes. His eyes were so, so blue. “Not as much as you are.”

Jack chuckled darkly. “Pretty sure no one’s ever called me kind.”

“Aristo might.”

“Let’s not talk about the children right now, hm?” Jack started backing Evan toward the desk. “What happened to  _ hallelujah? _ ”

Evan blinked. “Well, I -”

“We don’t have a kitchen chair, but I think your desk chair will do.”

Evan glanced at it, his eyes going wide. “Oh, well, um -”

“Evan Lorne, at a loss for words? How shocking.” Jack smirked, pushed Evan down into the chair, and sank to his knees. “Let’s see how many more words I can steal.”

Evan nodded, and Jack leaned in, kissed him. Evan kissed back hungrily, their mouths meeting over and over again. Then Jack sat back, ran his hands up Evan’s thighs and said, 

“It’s time for some fun.”

*

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he felt -  _ good _ . Whole. Complete. Dare he think it? Happy. That week of stand down was, to date, the best of his life. There was paperwork - really just the drafting of that AAR - and some logistics work, but it was light, easy. There was Dungeons and Dragons, during which Evan flirted with him outrageously, so outrageously Jack couldn’t even flirt back, he was so shocked. There was knitting, Jack working determinedly on a little hat for his niece while Evan held yarn and nodded at Dr. Ambrose in all the right places during her monologue about her work and her day. There was video games, Evan and Jack side by side, pressed together on the couch from shoulder to elbow to knee to ankle, nudging each other and leaning into each other, racing and crashing and cursing and laughing, because one of them came in last every time, and their teammates were beginning to despair of them.

And there was cooking, just the two of them, Jack cooking for Evan after the Marines obligingly cleared out late one night. 

They were together, every night, the two of them, ostensibly working on Jack’s AAR after their social activities but really kissing and cuddling and tumbling between Evan’s sheets, falling asleep sweaty and sated and curled together.

When stand-down ended, Evan and his team were slated to escort Dr. Lindsey off-world for one of her regular science trade missions, teaching primitive Pegasus natives better farming and fishing techniques. Jack’s first mission was to escort Aristo and the other boys to their new home.

Aristo was sad to leave, but Elizabeth assured him - and Jack and Evan and their teams - that they would visit often, so Evan and his team were in the gate room to see Jack and AR-7 and the boys through the gate.

Evan was kneeling in front of Aristo, smoothing down his clothes and hair, making sure he had his pack full of possessions - toothbrush and toothpaste, comb and cup and clothes, coloring book and crayons.  

“We’ll visit often,” Evan promised. “But you have to be good for your new parents, all right?”

Aristo nodded. “I promise.” He hugged Evan tightly for a moment, then Jack, then turned and placed himself at the head of his little troop of boys.

“Any last words for me?” Jack asked.

Evan straightened up. They were careful not to stand too close - half of Atlantis was gathered in the gate room to say farewell - but Evan smiled up at him. “Yeah.” 

Jack raised his eyebrows.

Evan patted him forcefully - a little too forcefully -  on the arm. “Hurry home.”

Jack frowned, peered down at his arm, and saw - Evan had put a patch on his jacket. The rectangular patch of velcro on his left sleeve was always blank, because unlike everyone else, he had no flag patch.

But now he did. Hand-stitched in painstaking detail was a black monarch butterfly on an orange background. The flag of Gilboa.

Jack stared at it for a long time. Everyone had a flag patch, everyone but him and Teyla - and Ronon never wore a uniform anyway - and now he had one, too. Just like the rest. He was representing Gilboa on Atlantis.

“Yes,” he said. “Home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text of the book lifted directly from the show. Thanks, Google.


End file.
